


Bimbo Emblem: Awakening

by EmblemAnon



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi, Transformation, bimbofication
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 16:36:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19380589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmblemAnon/pseuds/EmblemAnon
Summary: A hex brewed up by Tharja to help her seduce the love of her life has far-reaching consequences when a bigger, bustier and highly ambitious Robin sets her sights on spreading her gift to the whole of Ylisse, starting with her good friends in the Shepherds...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally conceived on the ongoing Bimbo Academia/Bimbo Multiverse thread on 4chan's /trash/ board, where we take our favourite fictional universes and sex them up to the extreme with the help of bimbo magic. 
> 
> Because the standard identity erasure seen in a lot of "bimbo" fetish material is pretty much an anathema to everything interesting or unique about an established character, we spend a lot of time talking about how bimbo magic might cause a character to change and evolve, as well as the body type they might end up with based off their personality, etc etc. We're also equal opportunity perverts, since we put a fair amount of effort into "himbo-fying" the guys as well. :)
> 
> The thread also has a resident artist who does a lot of comissions for the various characters in the storie we make. So far, he's done pictures of both Robin and Tharja in their bimbofied forms:  
> https://www.deviantart.com/bimboannon/art/Bimbo-Robin-Fire-Emblem--780253862  
> https://www.deviantart.com/bimboannon/art/Commissoin-Bimbo-Tharja-802209421
> 
> I'm putting this up on this site in the hope of garnering some extra feedback, criticism and possibly even suggestions/ideas for future chapters from AO3 readers. Hell, if you want, pay a visit to the thread and see if we've done any talking about other universes you like!
> 
> Now, without further ado, let's get started.

"Tharja? Hello? I was told you wanted to see me?"

In a rarely-trodden corner of the Ylisstol castle, a heavy wooden door creaked on its hinges. Through it stepped a young woman, clad in a heavy black robe, etched with purple and trimmed in gold. She carried a stack of books in her arms, white pigtails whipping back and forth as she peered through the gloom of her colleague's quarters.

This was Robin, tactician of the Shepherds. In the wake of their previous victory, she'd retired to the Exalt's castle, living there and helping with the mundanities of running a kingdom, something she knew that her friend and monarch Chrom was not particularly good at. Some Shepherds had returned to their own homes to figure out what was going on with all the children from the future popping up, some trained for the new war these children spoke of, while others had taken temporary residence in the castle as thanks for their service. One such was Tharja, the Plegian sorceress they'd recruited a while back, who'd quickly taken a rather unhealthy romantic interest in Robin, as well as set upon cursing any members of the army who offended her.

The strategist had not been deterred, however, as Tharja, though dour and standoffish to all but her, was not only talented but surprisingly helpful as she began to warm to her fellow warriors. With polite refusal and patient understanding, the two had forged a bond. Now the mage lived here, practising her craft under the protection of the Exalt. And less than an hour past, Robin had been told she'd been invited to study with the dark mage.

Always hungry for both knowledge and a deeper connection with her peers, Robin had jumped at the chance. Now she had entered Tharja's quarters, and was starting to worry a little.

"Tharja? Hello? It's awfully dark in here... This isn't a prank, is it?"

Robin stepped forward, placing the stack of books on the floor and reaching to light one of the wall lanterns. As she did so, a strange smell met her nose. It was cloying, heavy and sweet, almost like a fusion of woodsmoke and honey. Unusual, even for Tharja, though admittedly not unpleasant. She pressed on, calling her friend's name.

Rounding the corner into the mage's makeshift study, she bore witness to a jarring sight. The room was busy, shelves stacked with jars and boxes containing bizarre and exotic hexing ingredients, a few bookcases filled to the brim with arcane literature and dark tomes, even some stacked around the room for lack of space. The desk across the room held several such books, all open as reference material, facing inward to where a figure, covered by a dark shawl, slumped in the middle of a freshly-etched magic circle.

"Tharja!" The tactician cried as she dashed to help her friend. She carefully scuffed the circle with her boot and stepped inside, sweeping aside the tangle of black hair as she rolled her unconscious friend over. As her view improved, the more her confusion grew.

For a moment, she doubted it was actually Tharja. Tharja was by no means an unattractive woman, far from it, but the face before Robin now was positively stunning. Soft, porcelain skin stretched over sharp, appealing features, with plump, darkly-rouged lips and long, gently fluttering eyelashes. Glancing down her body, even that appeared to have changed. Tharja had been the talk of the camp for a while after her recruitment for her body, but what she had now bordered on obscene. Bountiful breasts bordering on the size of her head bounced enticingly, barely contained by her signature bodystocking. That, combined with an enhanced figure that took Tharja's signature curviness and ran wild with it, pinching into an impossible waist before flaring into thick, rolling hips and long, lissome legs. On closer inspection, even her outfit had transformed, with what had previously been risqué now appearing outright whorish. Her sandals now featured towering platform heels, the elegant tabard she'd worn now a tiny loincloth that settled suggestively between her thighs, and the tasteful earrings she'd worn under her sweeping black hair now dangled as wide, golden hoops.

"Gods, Tharja, are you okay?!" The white-haired woman shook her friend, eyes wide with alarm. Sure enough, Tharja groaned, her heavy lashes parted, eyes gazing up groggily as her vision cleared. She blinked, and smiled.

"Hi there Robin..." She giggled. Robin stopped for a moment. Tharja didn't giggle. She might titter. She might cackle. But never had she made a noise that sounded quite like that almost disturbingly innocent giggle.

"What happened? Are you feeling alright? You look... Different." Robin drew back an inch, suddenly aware of her proximity to this new, extremely sexy version of her friend. Tharja giggled again.

"I was testing a hex... And it got a little weird..." She began to move, to stand up, but slipped on her ridiculous heels, falling back onto Robin, head on her shoulder. "Whoopsie!" She laughed, throwing her arms around the robed woman in a tight hug. Swaying and slurring, it was almost like she was drunk.

To Robin, this was looking like a disturbing parody of the time Tharja had attempted to make herself "normal", though this time magic was involved. With her face so close to the giggling mage's, she could smell the same heady honey smoke from before, but far stronger, wafting from her companion like the scent of shampoo. The strength of it was almost enough to make her light-headed. Looking past that, she noticed a tome lying on the floor in the centre of the magic circle, bound in an unusual pink cover.

"Umm... Tharja, what's that?" She gestured with a free hand.

"Huh? Oh, yeah..." The Plegian swivelled in her lap with surprising grace, flipping open the tome's thick cover with a single pointed heel. "I was working on this... I think I got it right, but now I can't figure out how it works..." She pouted, resting her head back on her friend's shoulder before giggling again, her frustration forgotten, and softly nuzzled into the collar of the tactician's robe.

Despite the distraction of Tharja's sudden thirst for affection, Robin could clearly see from the book’s position that she had been reading it upside down. All of this was... Worrying.

"Okay, don't worry Tharja-" She gently dislodged the dark mage from her lap, stood and snatched up the tome. It was untitled, and had several components that Robin couldn't even begin to understand, but it seemed to be an attempt to mix mind-affecting and bodily transmutation charms into a targeted spell. Why Tharja was playing with such a specific project was a mystery, but it seemed she'd just been an accidental victim to its effects. Now, was it permanent? Was there a reversal clause? Could she-

"Robiiiin..." Tharja pined from the floor. "Drop that dumb book and come play..." She settled on her knees, swaying gently, palms on the floor, arms pressing her breasts together, back arched to better display them as she gazed up with sultry eyes... It was an almost professional display of seduction. Such a shame that Robin didn't pay her the least bit of attention.

"Not to worry Tharja, I'll have you fixed up soon enough. Now, that clause there..." The tactician devolved into mumbling, leaving Tharja on the floor to pout. The sorceress looked down at her enhanced body, trailing a hand over her stomach and over the curve of her chest.

"Fix...?"

"Don't worry, I have this under control. Looks like some parts of this are temporary anyway. Wait, soul stimulation? What does that mean..." It was clear, even to the newly minted bimbo, that Robin wasn't listening.

But the dulled mind Tharja was suffering was indeed temporary, and as Robin milled about, cross-referencing books around the cluttered study, trying to decipher the spell, the hexer's rightly-feared mind slowly began to return. With it came awareness, as her new body's sensations became more recognisable. Every movement felt better, more streamlined and tactile. She squeezed her thighs together and breathed a silent moan at how sensitive she was. This new existence was pleasure incarnate.

And what kind of woman would she be if she didn't share this supreme pleasure with the one she loved?

Robin failed to notice her bimbofied friend moving behind her, absorbed in her work as she was. Even in different circumstances, she'd have loved to rifle through such obscure magical texts. Hence, when Tharja came up behind her with a sealing charm and a sprig of mandrake root, she was out before the tome even hit the floor.

As darkness claimed her, he was vaguely aware of a soft warmth being pressed to her face, and a distant voice.

"Don't worry my love... I know you'll adore this..."

+++

Emerging from the dreamless, unnatural sleep, Robin stirred quickly.

"Ungh... Tharja?" She groaned, attempting to move, only to realise her hands had been tied at the wrist. Her eyes shot open to find that she was bound and tied to the wall of the study, a semi-circle of magic etchings surrounding her, with Tharja nowhere to be seen. Her jacket, boots and trousers lay on the floor across from her, leaving her in her trademark pinstripe undertop and smallclothes. She attempted to move her legs, but they seemed leaden and unresponsive. Raising her voice only silenced her to a croak. Her mind raced, but the confusion thrumming through her mixed with the ever-present and increasingly distracting scent of honey smoke made it infuriatingly hard to think. She was trapped. Fortunately, she didn't have to wait long.

Sharp clicking noises came from the empty doorway, the kind of sound one would expect from sharp heels on a stone floor. Tharja strode into view, towering over the captured woman in those absurd shoes. Not only that, it seemed she'd gained some height in her transformation. In one arm, she held the pink-bound tome, her chest overflowing against it as it was pressed to her chest.

As she approached, her features lit up, though not in the predatory sense one came to expect from Tharja. This was very real, very warm, a look of genuine love. And in some ways that was even scarier.

"Sorry to make you wait, my love..." She drawled, almost all trace of the giggly airhead from earlier now gone. "And even more sorry that you had to see me like that. I needed to make sure the spell was perfect for you..."

"Tharja! What do you think you're doing! Let me go!" The tactician strained against her bonds, equal parts desperate and futile. "Whatever that spell did, it's affected your mind! Untie me and we can figure out what's wrong-"

"You really do talk too much sometimes..." The towering bimbo shook her head, placing the book on the ground and stepping forward to straddle her prisoner, hands clasping either side of her captive's face as their eyes met, mere inches apart. "But you should already know I love every part of you. Even that..." She descended, and pressed herself against the smaller woman, nearly smothering her in soft, yielding flesh.

Robin found herself assaulted on all fronts. Arms snaked around her waist, breasts many times the size of her own pressed against her, and her lips were captured by Tharja's own, the Plegian's massive feather-soft pillows kissing her with a gentle hunger that left her completely overwhelmed. This was one battlefield the tactician was not prepared for. Tharja pressed the advantage, leaning in closer to kiss her obsession ever more intensely, her hips descending to grind the mound of her womanhood against Robin's leg. The tactician squeaked as she felt the heat on her thigh, her every movement, whether it be of lip or of hip, rolled around by Tharja into a sensual full-body dance that felt so incredibly hard to resist...

Eventually, the mage withdrew, leaving Robin a flustered, blushing mess. "You're adorable..." She smiled, with not a hint of malice. "But now it's time to make you beautiful... More beautiful than anyone else in the world..."

"Wait!" Robin panted, still breathless from the carnal engagement. "Tharja, please... Don't... I know you only want the best for me, but you're not in your right mind-"

"I know what I've done, Robin." Tharja interrupted again. "I made this for you anyway. The bodily changes, the pheromones, the lowered inhibitions... It was all for you, to give you everything you ever wanted. But after feeling the ecstasy of this existence, I just can't help but share..." She leaned in again, and Robin reflexively recoiled. "I'm still the same Tharja I always was. I'm still yours, my love. Now and forevermore. I want to let you be your own perfection, no matter the cost to me. And now, after testing it on myself, it's ready." She planted a singular, chaste kiss on Robin's flushed forehead, and withdrew, leaving her beloved speechless.

"You did this for me?" She eventually managed, watching her friend finalise the details of the ritual. Tharja looked up again, the warm and loving look on her face only slightly offset by the enormous valley of cleavage right below it.

"Everything I do, I do for you, my love. Now, hold still and relax, I promise it won’t make you a vapid airhead, but it will feel completely amazing..." She settled back on her rather sizable haunches and raised the tome, eyes fluttering closed. Fingers splayed, lines of magenta-tinged power began to flow around her as the familiar thrum of magic filled the air. The chalk symbols on the floor around Robin began to react, taking on a bright pink glow as the magic spread through them. Robin herself gasped as a pleasurable heat seemed to grow in her very core, peaking before slowly diffusing through her. Her breath caught and muscles tightened as the wave of heat rolled slowly over her, her eyes squeezed shut and unaware of the pink miasma that twisted over her form.

And soon, as quickly as it had risen, it was gone. Robin was left trembling, her whole form stimulated in a completely novel way. Opening one eye, she saw Tharja reaching up to untie her, dispelling the hexes that kept her in place, then glanced down at herself, calmed by the fact that her body appeared unchanged. She was content to let it happen, a warm satisfaction pervading her mind. Once finished, Tharja sat down beside her, winding her fingers through her subject’s Grima-marked hand and resting her head on her beloved's bare shoulder.

"How do you feel, Robin?" She cooed in her red-faced subject's ear.

"That was... Intense..." Robin managed as her breathing settled, rubbing her unshackled wrists. "But I don't feel all that differe-" She stopped mid-sentence as she suddenly realised that she did indeed feel quite different. A new feeling was budding inside her, seemingly in her nipples. It was small, but growing fast, building like an ocean wave as her flesh seemed to swell with new mass.

She threw her head back, teeth grit against the exhilarating wave of sensation as the feeling in her breast blossomed, feeling the weight on her chest grow in tandem with the intense sensation. Her hand squeezed Tharja's tightly, her friend returning in kind as she watched the transformation in awe.

Robin dared not open her eyes, but it felt like she was straining against her undertop now, and yet still she continued to grow. Were her clothes changing with her? Did she look as much like a stripper as Tharja did? She barely cared, growing felt too gods-damned good. She moaned aloud, clasping her free arm across her chest, finding herself inexplicably delighted feeling the gigantic and yet still swelling mounds.

Just when it seemed like she might be slowing down, a new set of budding sensations arose, this time in her navel. It seemed to stretch out through her lower body, snaking through her abdomen to her most intimate regions, winding around her pelvis as she felt the changes coming anew. As her cushiony bottom ballooned beneath her, she felt a strange sensation in her womanhood, followed by a stretching in her stomach as her hips expanded and waist shrunk to impossibly ideal proportions. She cried out in earnest, gasping and shaking as the changes overtook her body, never letting go of Tharja's hand.

Before that was even done, more and more of her body was overtaken by the change. A surging in her scalp as a whole foot of thick, lustrous white hair grew out, muscles coiling around the bones in her legs as they plumped out, becoming tantalisingly thick. Her face contorted into a visage of perfect bliss, swelling lips forming a perfect O as her features morphed, still unmistakably 'her' but yet smoother, fuller, more beautiful. As it reached her hands, the mark of Grima on her skin seemed to writhe, resisting the changes, but found itself overwhelmed, capitulating and allowing the change to occur. Each individual finger twitched as the nail burst out, every one equally long and perfectly manicured. Every cell in her body affected by the changes became a pinprick of ecstasy, feeding into one another as they overwhelmed the poor woman's mind in the most decadent moment of her life.

After what seemed like days, the cascade ended. She slumped into Tharja's arms, convulsing and cooing, her brilliant strategic mind reduced to a babbling mess. The dark-haired bimbo stroked her hair and whispered gentle comforts as her mind returned. As the light came back on in her eyes, Tharja asked her:

"Would you like a mirror?"

Robin wasn't sure initially, but quickly made a nod. Tharja extricated herself from the blushing fresh convert, and stood, heels clicking on the floor as she strode to the other side of the room, pulling a full-length mirror from behind a cabinet.

Robin felt delicate, gentle hands helping her to her feet, guiding her new body through the motions of walking again. She kept her eyes shut, unsure of what awaited her, until she felt Tharja settling beside her, whispering softly in her ear: "You're amazing..."

Robin opened her eyes and was yet again stunned by what she saw. Her body could make a fertility idol jealous, her face melt the heart of the most hardened scoundrel. Every inch of her looked like a piece of immaculately sculpted beauty, from the waterfalls of shining white hair around her face to the perfect curve between her bust and her hips. Standing next to Tharja, who had the body of a veritable goddess now herself, only served to highlight her own extraordinary features. Where Tharja's breasts were as big as her head, Robin's were that and half again, with no sign of sag or loss of shape. Where Tharja's lips were sultry and thick, Robin's were filled to the extent that it gave her a constant breathtaking pout. She even seemed to loom a few inches over the mage, despite the latter's ridiculous heels, lending her a distinct air of feminine authority even with her only claddings being a super-stretched pinstripe tube top and soaked white thong.

The two bimbos' eyes met in the mirror, and Robin saw nothing but love and adoration. In the face of such a marvellous transformation combined with a look of such uninhibited love, the new Robin could bear no ill will. She turned and embraced the shorter woman, lips meeting lips in another passionate kiss. Robin would never have been so forward before, to another woman no less, but it seemed… Right. They had barely spoken a word, but the roaming hands and sweet little moans told them everything they needed to know.

Tharja’s vocalisations were particularly desperate, as she found herself nearly overwhelmed by the fresh convert’s sheer hunger. As their lips clashed, slips of tongue being exchanged as they explored each other’s mouths, she found her legs weakening, partly from the unimaginable joy that her beloved was really kissing her, and partly from some new instinct she felt deep inside. It just seemed proper to be on her knees in Robin’s presence.

Soon she could take no more, and fell from Robin’s arms, gasping for air. The white-blonde bimbo smiled and looked down at her charge, strange new feelings stirring at the sight of a face so near to her crotch. She’d rarely entertained such thoughts before, but now they came thick and fast, filling her mind with sordid fantasies.

It seemed Tharja felt the same, as her hands quickly found Robin’s hips, then began to shimmy down the thin lace string that covered her most private areas. Robin’s breath stopped for a moment as she realised her intent, hands raised apprehensively to her chest, only for all her doubt to melt away the second a tongue touched her folds. 

Tharja wasted no time, diving into her lover’s soaked honeypot the instant the wet scrap of cloth was out of the way, tasting and exploring with almost religious fervour. Robin let out a shaky breath, reaching down to tease out Tharja’s golden circlet before lovingly intertwining the fingers of one hand through the silky black hair. To the eager black-haired bimbo, her grip only spurred her to go deeper, faster, focus right there, while the gleeful receiver’s other hand went to her breast, kneading it, teasing the nipple, luxuriating in its divine sensitivity.

Tharja kept going, bringing in a hand to probe her beloved’s depths as she lapped at the bud of the clitoris, curling to find the most sensitive spots, bring as much pleasure as she could… Robin’s grip tightened as she kept up the onslaught, hips grinding subtly into her servicer’s ministrations as her plateau built higher and higher. And yet… It didn’t seem fair.

“Stop… Tharja, stop.” Robin groaned and pulled back, a thin trail of fluid connecting them for a moment as they separated. Tharja looked up at her like a dejected puppy, and another new feeling stirred in Robin’s heart, one she couldn’t quite name. An urge to take control, to pleasure and be pleasured, entirely on her own terms. It was familiar in some respects, alien in others, but she still very much wanted to try.

She leaned forward, weight pressing down on Tharja, forcing her back to the floor, nestling in the softness of a rug. After kicking off the soaked string she once called panties, Robin settled between her legs, and with a mischievous glance up through the cleavage of the prone woman, tore a gash in the crotch of the latter’s bodystocking. Tharja sighed as cool air touched her own soaking slit, teeth nipping at the corner of one plump lip in anticipation. With a smile, Robin swung a sculpted leg over Tharja’s, pressing their pussies together in an intimate moment of passion. Their hearts fluttered in unison as they met, smooth skin gliding over itself as they began to slowly grind against one another. Gasps and sighs filled the air, each reaching to intertwine their fingers with the other, staring deep into one another’s eyes as the pace escalated, a tightness forming in their cores in unison. The pressure quickly reached unbearable levels, and Tharja was the first to let go. 

She slammed her groin forward, letting out a guttural groan as her insides turned to a hot, gooey mess, legs twitching beneath her as her eyes screwed shut, offering just enough stimulation to send Robin over the edge as well. She bucked her hips once more and squealed, her composure crumbling as she clasped her chest in her arms, waves of deep satisfaction roaring through her, placating her in ways no orgasm ever had before. She trembled in place for a long moment before slumping forward, slipping to her lover’s side and embracing her fully, their bodies intertwining as darkness encroached upon their vision. 

With Tharja nestling into her bosom, the last thing Robin saw before blissful slumber took her was the outline of that wondrous pink tome, the mere sight of it spinning up a brand new lewd hunger inside her. Her smile widened a fraction as her exquisite eyes slipped shut, her body tired but as yet unsated. With that book, the possibilities for pleasure were endless, for her and everyone she cared about. In her last conscious thoughts, she made a mental note to thank Tharja properly when they woke for this exciting opportunity to deepen the bonds between them and their allies. In dreams, her mind flitted to and fro, debauching and consorting with muscular men and voluptuous women, exhilarated and inspired by images of her friends’ faces twisted in incredible pleasure. 

Robin’s fate changed that night in ways that she could have scarcely imagined. Her new destiny called; to spread the carnal joy and fulfilment of the bimbo’s blessing across the world.

She could hardly have asked for anything more wonderful.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin takes her newfound gift to the bedchambers of her good friend Chrom, while Tharja gets to work on her own contribution. All the while, Lucina patrols the castle, unaware of their benevolent plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the first chapter has given you an idea of how we try to respect the characters' personalities despite the obvious intentions of the story. That said, if you're still with me, here's the next part.

Robin was woken by the gentle rays of the rising sun filtering through the window. Her eyes flickered open, flinching from the glare, stirring her mind from slumber. The first things to rise from the fog were the memories of the previous night. Exotic magic, sinful transformation and sordid pleasure. It couldn’t possibly have been real, could it?

She tilted her head down, and saw Tharja, face pressed into the plumpness of her bosom, a sweet little smile on her full, puffy lips as she dozed, wrapped in her lover’s enhanced embrace. It had been real after all.

Thank the gods.

She lay there, entangled, for a few more minutes, shifting against her smaller partner, revelling in the simple pleasures her new form afforded her. Everything, from the silky caress of Tharja’s hair to the rough softness of the rug they slept on stimulated her in new, wonderful ways. It never felt so good to be alive.

Soon however, her vision glimpsed a scrap of pink. The tome. It lay just out of reach, forcing her to stretch and lean, eliciting a small moan from Tharja. She looked down to see the dark mage’s heavy lashes part, groggy eyes staring up at her before lighting up in recognition.

“Hey...” She mumbled, still partially asleep.

“Hey.” Robin smiled, bending down to kiss her once more. Tharja gladly locked lips, and they lay there for a blissful minute, tongues dancing in the dawn’s light. Eventually, Robin pulled away, sighing contentedly. “We should get up.”

Tharja pouted, but obeyed, slipping away from her living pillow. It was only then that Robin noticed that Tharja had at some point hooked a finger into her cleavage, pulling down the tube top that had once been her favourite undershirt to bare her breasts to the world.

The old Robin might have been self-conscious. Mortified, even. But the new Robin just giggled, shook her titties a little for her friend’s enjoyment and pulled the top back up to just past her areolae. Why be ashamed of showing off her body when she was this hot?

With that done, she scooched over to pick up the discarded tome, opening it to a page of magical text as she padded toward her discarded pile of clothes. At a glance, it seemed… Significantly more straightforward than before. Putting it down at the desk, she bent to pick up her garments, or at least what they had become.

It seemed the magic had affected even the clothes she’d discarded. Her robe was significantly lighter, more like a silken raiment now, and could no longer close, exposing the entirety of her front. Likewise, her pants and belt had shifted into a short pleated skirt which failed to reach even halfway down her thigh, while her boots now reached all the way to the knee. They also sported the same ludicrous platform heels she’d seen on Tharja, though they now seemed far more attractive than they had before. She had her doubts about walking on them, but to her amazement after slipping them on, they felt as natural as an extension of her body.

As she finished dressing, she gave the mirror a quick pose. Her altered outfit exposed not only a good deal of thigh and a generous amount of cleavage, but also the entirety of her flat, smooth stomach. She found herself loving how much she had on display, cocking her hip playfully and watching herself jiggle.

As she did, she felt a twinge in her nethers. Her panties from the night before, riding up and still a little wet. Slipping them down her legs, she tossed them into the nearest wastepaper basket, fully aware that Tharja would probably retrieve them later for ‘personal reasons’. Instead, she basked in the breezy feeling their absence left, the liberation of going commando feeling wonderfully similar to that of her new frame of mind.

She picked up the tome and turned back to Tharja, who it seemed was far less of a morning person and had barely stood up yet. She rifled through the pages, and was astounded at how easily she could follow it now. It wasn’t instinctual by any means, just that she could logically follow the thread of the dark spell without even being versed in the craft. Was she in fact more intelligent?

As she grew more familiar with the text, it did seem so. In fact, she could see several ways to improve it, cutting out the ritual components and increasing its efficiency. Her mind raced ever faster in the excitement of this revelation, so fast in fact that she grabbed for a charcoal pencil in fear that she would forget every small detail she now saw. After filling the margins of several pages with erudite scribbles, she at last put it down, closing the book and bouncing up and down on the spot with scientific glee, causing a small boobquake.

“You look happy, Robin...” Tharja said as she rubbed her eyes.

“I’ve made some improvements to the spell!” The newly minted bimbo genius squeaked. “Here, take this-” She reopened the book and tore out what had but moments ago been a blank page, now filled from top to bottom with arcane text and diagrams. “-and make another copy. We’re going to need it.”

“And why’s that?” Tharja asked, reaching out for the page anyway from her seat on the ground.

“Because we’re going to spread this as far and wide as we can. We owe it to our friends to let them have a taste of this as well.” Robin chirped, scanning through the book again, wheels in her head turning as she devised a very different kind of strategy than usual. Tharja sighed in response.

“Can’t we just have fun on our own?”

Robin snapped the book shut, clasping it in her off hand, and looked down at Tharja. From the dark mage’s point of view, she suddenly seemed to loom. In her own set of heels she was more amazonian than ever, closer to seven feet tall than six, towering over the floorbound girl. Robin bent over, closer to Tharja’s height, showing a valley of mouth-watering cleavage as she placed a single manicured finger beneath her lover’s chin, tilting her head up until their eyes met.

She held that pose for a moment, letting Tharja wait. The poor girl was practically quivering, both dismayed that such a simple gesture could hold such power over her and so painfully eager to please.

“You’ll do what I tell you to, right Tharja?” She broke the silence in an almost condescending tone, as if talking to a child.

“Yes Mistress.” Tharja replied immediately, attention rapt. She’d never used that word to talk about anyone other than herself before. It was humiliating to be seen like that by her one true beloved, and she hated how much it was turning her on. Robin smiled, tracing the finger to the tip of her willing pet’s chin. Then she uttered two words.

“Good girl.”

Tharja nearly came on the spot.

The tactician giggled with glee at her fellow bimbo’s expressions. It was a rare treat to see Tharja lose her composure. But her brain was still whirring, figuring out their plan of attack. “Now, listen. Here’s what we’re going to do...”

+++

Minutes later, Robin strode through the castle’s corridors with an air of confidence she’d never known before. Her heels clicked on the tiled floor rhythmically, hips shaking and breasts bouncing to their rhythm. It would have been ample cause for anyone passing to stop and stare, but she hadn’t encountered a single one, not even a posted guard that might have questions on why the Exalt’s chief advisor was strutting about the castle at dawn dressed like an expensive whore.

Of course, it did help that she’d written up all their patrol rotas herself less than a month ago, and knew every servant’s name, general level of diligence and normal morning routine down to the minute. Such is the burden of a tactician in peacetime. But in the end, the result was the same. She was Queen of the castle in all but name. And soon, with the help of the tome tucked into her robe pocket, she’d be that too…

That was the plan anyway. Honestly, she’d come up with the plan in the spur of the moment, testing her newfound intellect. Now it was time to execute it… Well, emotion was starting to conflict with logic. It made sense to start at the top, but there was a lot of personal involvement there...

Pushing the unwanted thoughts to the back of her mind, she proceeded up several flights of stairs, moving inexorably towards her destination. Two expertly avoided patrols later, she stood just around the corner from the Exalt’s chambers, currently guarded by a single soldier, bedecked in fine engraved armour and shouldering a spear. She listened to him shuffling in place, waited as he let out a yawn. And in three… Two…. One…

A grandfather clock down the hall chimed, signalling the end of his shift. But the next guard wasn’t there yet, because he’d been for a night on the town, as he always did on Thursdays. The standing guard grunted and shuffled off in the direction of the barracks, knowing his lord found the idea of personal guards distasteful enough to not care in the slightest if he left to get some rest.

She waited for him to round the corner, counting his steps, and quickly dashed for the door, rapping on the heavy bolted hardwood urgently. Faintly on the other side, she heard sleepy sounds of confusion. A deep voice rang out, clearly still half-asleep.

“Hmm? Who is it?”

“Chrom, it’s me, Robin. I need to talk to you.” More noise from the other side, the sound of ruffling blankets and bare feet padding on tiles.

“Robin? Couldn’t it wait until the council meeting? Oh well...” There was the sound of a bolt being drawn back, and the door ground open in front of her, revealing the occupant: The Exalt of the Halidom of Ylisse, the man who had found her unconscious and amnesiac in a field less than two years before, and without a doubt her greatest friend, Chrom himself, in a crumpled baby-blue pyjama suit. His eyes were closed, one hand rubbing over his face as he cleared the sleep from his eyes, his short, cobalt blue hair in a bedhead state. He dropped the hand, revealing the sharp, attractive features that had set so many Ylissean maidens’ hearts aflutter over the years, and looked straight at where he expected her eyes to be.

“Alright, what seems to be the problem-” He stopped short, somewhat surprised that he seemed to be eye-to-eye with her breasts. He blinked, slowly looked up to her face, and blinked again. “Did...” He started, “...Did you get taller?”

Robin smiled and leant forward, whisking herself into the room, moving Chrom out of the way by planting his face solidly between her boobs. He spluttered and reared back, falling entirely into her motion as she spun him around, pushing him against the closing door, his body held firmly against hers.

Robin gazed down at him as he struggled and sputtered, musing affectionately. Before today, she’d never really considered Chrom in a romantic light. He was the general, she was the strategist, and despite their comradery the relationship was mostly professional. She owed him too much to put that pressure on him. After all, he’d found her, given her a place to feel at home and a cause worth fighting for, despite the suspicions and protestations of his loyal knight Frederick. She was truly grateful to him, and now it was time to repay him in full.

“R-Robin!? What are you doing?” He eventually managed, strong arms raised to his sides, defensive but uncertain on where to lay his hands to push her away. He certainly could, he was more than strong enough, but his unwillingness to lay a hand on his friend stopped him. With every passing moment, she felt her affection grow deeper, respect slowly transmuting into love.

“I came here to share something with you, Chrom. Something wonderful.” She spoke slowly, pressing her body ever more closely to his, feeling his lithe form tense against her. Her hands went to his, fingers threading together, holding his hands either side of his head. He didn’t resist, just glanced between them and her in bewilderment, slack jawed at her sudden advances.

“That is not an answer! And what happened to you?” He attempted to pull his hands away, only for Robin to stop him in his tracks by leaning down to plant a gentle yet insistent kiss on his lips.

He froze, his lips immobile for a moment, only to open them in protest, quickly silenced by Robin’s tongue as it darted through the gap to explore his mouth, leaving him powerless to do anything less than allow himself to be ravished. When she eventually surfaced for air, his face was positively rosy with blush.

“Robin, what...” He gasped, unused to this particular kind of exercise. “Please, tell me what this is...”

Their eyes met, and something in those earnest blue orbs made her heart melt. She sighed and backed away, releasing him from her embrace. He stepped away from it, but didn’t move away. He never much liked running away.

“I suppose in technical magical terms it’s a hex.” She started, eyes downcast. “But not like the ones Tharja casts around the camp when someone ticks her off. It’s a spell that brings your ideal self closer to reality, enhancing your body, reducing inhibitions and revealing your true feelings.”

She took a step forward, draping her arms lightly around Chrom’s shoulders, simply wanting to feel him against her, the embrace tender and gentle. As much as she had wanted this to be simple, she couldn’t stop the emotions welling up.

“True feelings…?” Chrom mumbled, still reeling. “Robin, does that mean-”

“Yes, Chrom. That kiss was genuine. Is it really such a surprise?” She blurted out, eyes still averted. “Everything I have now, I owe to you. Friends, comrades… All because you allowed me to stand by your side. Before this...” She shrugged her shoulders, briefly accentuating her bust. “I was content with being your friend, your advisor. But I can’t hold back any more. I want to be-”

“Family?”

She turned her gaze back to him, seeing the wry smile she’d come to adore. In times of war, it had been rare, but seeing it seemed to make every moment worthwhile.

“You know, I would still have listened if you had come on a little softer…” He continued, wrapping his hands around her back, returning the embrace in a way that set her heart racing. He may have been significantly shorter than her now, but he was still strong. Strong enough to make her feel safe, encircled like that. It was also kind of a turn-on, but Robin refused to let that ruin the moment.

“Sorry...” She sighed. “I was just… Kind of desperate.”

“Clearly.” He chuckled, making her pout indignantly. A stray finger flicked his cheek, only causing his laugh to deepen. “Hey, don’t worry.”

“You dolt…” She grumbled. “And you still haven’t given me an answer, you know.”

“Right, sorry.” He coughed into his hand, as if he were about to make a speech. “Robin, I... Can’t say this hasn’t caught me off guard. I’m not sure what to say...”

Her heart sank. For one terrible moment her great mind was wholly overtaken by a deep, dark dread as her eyes glazed over, staring past him. This was a rejection, right? She’d tried to seduce him, given up halfway through to confess and failed on both fronts. She could only blame herself. At best, she could hope she wasn’t cast out of the army...

“...But what I can tell you is this.” Her ears pricked up again at the hopeful words, the deluge of negative thought halting in its tracks.

He stepped back, shrugging off her arms, and took her hands in his. His eyes met hers, a slight rosy tint graced his cheeks, and he spoke.

“There’s no one I trust more than you, Robin. Not one. I can see clear as day that you’re the same woman I know despite all… This...” He gestured vaguely at her form, his blush deepening slightly, “So I’m not sure what the whole story is with this hex, but I know your judgement is sound. I’d be honored to have you stand with me… Forever, if you’ll tolerate me that long.”

It was pretty much all she could have hoped to hear, filtered through his admittedly awkward and confused mind, but his words’ intention was unmistakable. She had to fight the urge to clamp him between her boobs again, to mount him on the spot and kiss him till he passed out, all while holding back tears of joy.

She couldn’t muster the will to speak, so instead she led him back to his bed. She patted the covers, had him lie down and straddled his pelvis, briefly leaning down to plant a feather-light kiss on his lips. She withdrew the pink tome from her pocket and took a deep breath, the bulge she could feel underneath her spurring her on.

“Just lie back and relax. It’ll feel amazing, I promise. And when it’s over, you’ll feel like a whole new man.”

Lines of arcane power began to flow around her as the spell began, and the last thing the old Chrom heard before being overcome by a hot wave of stifling pleasure were three simple words, whispered above the tinkling whine of magic.

“I love you...”

+++

“Guh! Hah… Gods, that was incredible…”

The magic had done a fine job with Chrom if Robin did say so herself. It seemed he’d gained several inches of height, and had bulked out to match, muscles swelling to fit hid frame to seem similar enough to his previous physique, though significantly more muscular. His hair had burst out another inch or too as well, straddling the border between elegantly long and sheer shagginess, much like how Robin remained straddling his pelvis, acutely aware of the rock-hard, magically-enhanced fuckstick that had pressed up against her shortly into his transformation, and had only grown bigger underneath her since. She was pretty sure she had soaked the groin of his nightclothes at this point, she had been trying to concentrate on his expressions of ecstasy, and yet the promise of a deep and creamy dicking unsurprisingly proved quite distracting.

As he inspected his new self, flexing and checking the hereditary Brand of the Exalt on his shoulder, she cast the tome aside, letting it fall closed further down the bed. She lowered herself to her new lover’s body, a hand slipping under the stretched nightshirt, lightly tracing the chiseled lines of his abs. He tensed briefly under her touch, then relaxed, letting her explore him. At the same time, a tentative hand settled on her hip, sliding around to cup the generous swell of her butt. The two looked up in unison, gazes meeting and quickly breaking again, a blush staining both of their cheeks. They knew where this was going, and both wanted it, but their previous relationship was hard to shift, conflicting with their new, magically-gifted instincts.

“I guess… We start taking clothes off, then?” Chrom started, his discomfort apparent.

Robin smiled, still turned away, and began to shake off her robe, while Chrom unbuttoned his shirt. Inwardly, she panicked. This was not the plan. The awkwardness was palpable. The desire inside her was burning like an Arcfire spell, and here they were, fumbling around like young and clumsy virgin lovebirds.

...Well, maybe that wasn’t so far from reality.

Her robe gone, she took ahold of the hem of her flimsy top and pulled it over her head, letting her watermelon-sized, perfectly shaped breasts bounce free. Chrom’s fingers faltered as he stared in awe, pausing in his unbuttoning. Robin cast aside the garment and smiled at his reaction, embarrassment slowly fading, and promptly put his hands to better use.

She pressed her arms together, enhancing her fullness even further as she worked to unbutton him beneath her, his hands squeezing and fondling her chest all the while. She found herself reasonably distracted in her task as well, as Chrom quickly proved a much better masseur than she had, rubbing in slow circles, thumbs occasionally grazing her nipples. She let out shaky little moans as she fumbled about below her, freeing the last button and falling forward onto her palms, letting him latch on to one nipple with his mouth to send a bolt of pure pleasure arcing through her chest.

He kept going, nipping and suckling away, rolling her around on his palms, always gunning for the biggest reaction. Soldiering through the sensation, she managed to open her eyes, and her heart skipped a beat as she saw his eyes fixed not on her body, but her face. At her.

She ran an affectionate hand through his hair, ruffling the dark blue strands as she pulled away. He looked slightly disappointed, but soon perked up as she slid down his body, her fingers hooking under his waistband as she stared up at him, a mischievous glint in her eye. Tugging it down, she had to take it past the halfway point on his thigh before the object of her desires finally sprang free, leaping straight up to tower over her like an indomitable obelisk.

She simply stared at it for a second, mildly shocked. Chrom did too.

“Uh…” He began to babble, “Was it meant to get that… Long? You said the spell was meant to bring out my ideal self, but I don’t think I ever wished for that much-”

“It’s perfect…” Robin whispered in a hushed tone of awe. Chrom gave an incredulous chuckle at that.

“Well then… It’s all yours.” He reached down to cup her face in his hand, cradling her chin and stroking her cheek with a calloused thumb. “...As am I.”

She leaned into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palm against her flawless skin. To anyone else it might have seemed tasteless to be so romantic with his cock in her face, but with warm eyes, Robin took it to heart. Her gaze then turned, and she became much more preoccupied with taking it into her throat.

Her plump lips parted, tongue emerging to lick slowly from base to tip, making her man shiver in anticipation. She reared up to the tip, hands snaking up to touch him too, one barely managing to encircle the base, the other cradling his chicken egg-sized balls, feeling the heft of the load she wanted so badly…

With increasing passion, she lay kisses upon the tip, slowly stroking the shaft up and down all the while. First it was a soft peck. Then a flash of tongue. Then a full french kiss. In mere moments she was taking inch after inch into her mouth, tongue swirling about the head as her hands milked the shaft with ravenous zeal.

Chrom’s mind was simply overwhelmed, and he could do little but groan. His hand fell away, bunching in the bedsheets as Robin continued her attempts to suck his soul out through his dick.

“Gods, Robin, you’re incredible...” He gasped, voice straining as he watched her swollen lips do what they were born to do. “I won’t last long at this rate…”

The words did not fall on deaf ears, though that is not to say she slowed down. If anything, it served to spur her on, pushing herself deeper, cheeks hollowing as she enacted vacuum suction, pushing her head down as far as it would go, allowing him to invade the superb tightness of her throat, desperately seeking her thick, creamy reward…

So fierce was her bobbing in his lap that her hands left it entirely, seizing his and wrapping them around the long pigtails either side of her head. A defiant gaze made clear what she wanted, and Chrom felt he was in no position to refuse.

He began to buck his hips into her movements, controlling his pace with her hair, reaching deeper than ever before as he facefucked the desperate bimbo. Her eyes rolled back in bliss as she felt him shove himself deep into her gullet, not gagging once. Despite the pain in her scalp, it seemed insignificant compared to the satisfaction of pleasing her partner, a warm, empathetic feeling that now felt just as important as her own pleasure, if not more.

The effort was appreciated, as Chrom was nearing his climax. He began to grunt aloud with every thrust, sheathing himself deep in his willing cocksock’s throat over and over again, faster and faster, paralysing shockwaves wracking his lower body with sensations of intensities he’d never experienced before.

“R-Robin- I...” He pried his eyes open to look down at her, and saw an image of pure eroticism. An expression of pure, aching sexual hunger. Her face was smeared with spittle and her hair bunched in his hands, but her eyes commanded- No, demanded his seed. And he obeyed.

He thrusted once, twice more, let out a masculine, bellowing groan, and for the next ten seconds his world went white.

+++

A few doors down, another figure was patrolling the castle. Lucina, Chrom’s supposed child, from a ruinous future to aid in the fight against the dark forces that brought it about. On her hip, she carried Parallel Falchion, an exact copy of Chrom’s own ancestral sword, and in one of her eyes was emblazoned the Brand of the Exalt, marking her as being of Ylissean royal blood, as if he blue hair the exact same hue as her father’s, identical fighting style and intimate familial knowledge wasn’t enough.

Dressed in her usual tunic, tights and thigh boots, she had taken it upon herself to rise early and guard the upper bounds of the castle. Despite her knowledge of events yet to transpire in this time, she had been ultimately unable to save Emmeryn, Chrom’s elder sister and the previous Exalt, and was determined to save her father from the coming calamity, be it by fighting at his side or ensuring that no assassins reached his bedchambers early in the morning.

Except… It was rather exhausting.

Lucina sighed and leant against the corridor wall nearing Chrom’s chambers. She was tired, physically and emotionally. Her actions had thrown this timeline she tried so hard to save onto a new path, and now her knowledge of what was yet to transpire was useless. She had only been young when the world around her had been torn apart. So young in fact, that she could barely remember her mother or sibling, who had both disappeared around the same time.

It might have been better to stay detached. It brought her such joy to reunite with her father again, even if just a younger version with no memory of her childhood, but it had made the timeline more unpredictable. Who knew what effects her intrusion had unintentionally caused?

She righted herself and continued to walk, brooding behind her blank, unflappable facade. Still… Was she allowed to be a little selfish? Many of her comrades, children of the other members of Ylisse’s army, had already returned to whichever parents they could remember to fight alongside them. Was she not allowed to do the same? Her father, so warm, strapping and kind, had welcomed her as his own child, even if he had yet to take her mother-to-be as his wife. Here, she felt a sense of belonging that she had thought forever lost to her.

She straightened, her resolve affirmed. The past was of no concern. What mattered now was her decisions, her will to change fate. She would save her father from the mysterious assassin that would one day attempt to steal him from her, and fight by his side against the forces of the Fell Dragon wherever they might appear.

She took another step forward, and found herself within eyeshot of the Exalt’s chambers. The replacement guard had yet to arrive. Despicable. She briefly wondered whether to stand guard herself, only to be interrupted in her thoughts by a muffled groan from the other side of the heavy door. Was that her father? Was he in pain?

In an instant, her ear was pressed to the door, listening for more. As loath as she was to intrude on his privacy, she had to know if he was safe. There were strange sounds she could not fathom the meaning of, but when she heard another shaking, guttural cry, she could hold it no longer. She drew Falchion and kicked down the door, conviction in her every movement.

“Father! Whatever is the matte-” She froze mid-sentence, the image before her without a doubt staying with her for life.

Chrom, naked as the day he was born, muscles tensed and swollen to statuesque proportions, hands bunched in the hair of a lover and face grimacing against the tidal wave of sexual pleasure he currently held against. In his lap bobbed the head of Robin, his head tactician and choice advisor, someone who Lucina eyed warily on a good day, morphed into an idealised feminine figure, lips wrapped around the obscene girth of her father’s manhood as he twitched in her throat.

Both parties were too enraptured by their lovemaking to notice the intruder, frozen at Chrom’s moment of climax, completely still save for the convulsions in his hips and her eager, greedy swallowing. After a long moment, she reared up, gasping for air, a thick layer of semen coating her tongue, and with yet more to come. Chrom gave two last parting spurts, his augmented physiology churning out more than any normal man ever could, both landing in thick ropes over his lover’s face as she lay there, panting with lust, eyes closing in exaltation as the hot jizz painted her fair features white.

Both parties seemed to wind down for a moment, before suddenly registering their visitor. As one, they turned to Lucina, who stood stock still, petrified.

“...Lucina?” Chrom’s eyes widened in shock, paralysed, making no attempt to cover his sticky, dripping nakedness. His daughter’s eyes lingered on his sweat-slicked form for a horrible moment, then flicked to Robin.

Staring right at Lucina like a deer in the headlights, she gulped. Not out of any kind of fear, but to clear the remaining cum from her mouth so she could talk. Her face still splattered with Chrom’s essence, she started:

“I-”

But that was as far as she got before Lucina bolted, not even sheathing her sword before she ran out the door, slamming it shut behind her and sprinting away down the corridor, her face the hue of fiercest crimson.

Back on the bed, the two lovers sat there, stunned. There was a moment of uneasy silence.

“Should we go after her?” Chrom asked hesitantly, surprised at how little the short stint of exhibitionism bothered him, and unspokenly reluctant to leave the bed. Robin sighed, scraping the remnants of Chrom’s orgasm off her face with one immaculate finger and slurping it up like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Later. I think we have other things to attend to...” She poked at his erection, which stood proud, still completely hard despite the massive load he had just shot. He looked down to see for himself and chuckled.

“I suppose I could go another round… Or ten.” He reared up, rolling his new companion over on to her back and sliding down to flip her skirt up, unsurprised by her lack of underwear and flattered by her oceanic level of wetness. “And I have every intention of returning the favour...”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Robin and Chrom are busy getting to XXX-Support, Tharja pays a visit to Lissa, hoping to convert her to the cause. However, the now mentally scarred Lucina also has plans to visit her aunt...

Elsewhere in the castle, a very different scene was playing out. After Robin’s departure, Tharja had followed her orders to the letter, pausing only to shlick herself silly with the aid of her obsession’s discarded panties, before heading out to see her own target converted.

She crept through the castle with the aid of several quietening curses, clutching the new, hastily-bound bimbofication tome to her ample chest. It occurred to her as she walked straight past a guard, completely unseen, that she had neglected to give the hex a name. It had been irrelevant at the time, with her plan to use it only on herself and Robin, but it seemed just as irrelevant at that moment too. Why name something that was soon to be a status quo?

Although, to be honest, she couldn’t have said she was completely happy with Robin’s plan. She’d have much rather kept the tactician all to herself, rather than letting her leave to share her new body with Chrom and who knew how many others. But she simply couldn’t disobey... Probably a side-effect of the hex. Or maybe that submissive side had been inside her all along and just had yet to be brought to the surface? She would have to experiment later.

She soon arrived at the door of her quarry, the bedroom of Princess Lissa, sister to Chrom and, for lack of a better word, mascot of the Ylissean army. A quick curse, and the stationed guard was sound asleep in his chair, letting her knock on the door with impunity. Much mumbling and groaning on the other side of the door later, it creaked open, revealing the infamously intractable Lissa. She seemed to be partway through her morning grooming, blonde hair done up in her signature messy twintails, but missing the headdress that usually accompanied them. To boot, she was still wearing nought but a nightie and slippers, like she had been planning to remain undisturbed for a while. Good.

“Yeah, I’m up, I’m up... Who is it- Uhh, Tharja?”

As her eyes looked up to scan Tharja’s new form, the dark mage slapped a sealing charm onto her forehead, halting her in her tracks. Her jaw went limp, her posture slumped, suddenly zombie-like. Tharja was not in the mood to entertain Lissa’s notoriously long-running mouth on the best of days, so she simply stepped past the girl into her room.

The young royal’s chambers were quaintly cluttered, queen-size bed decorated with embroidered sheets and a good dozen well-loved plush animals. On every free surface between the opulently decorated walls were half-finished craft projects. Sewing kits, patchwork quilts, cookbooks, more tasks than Tharja cared to count. She sat at the princess’ ornate boudoir opposite the bed and snapped her fingers, prompting the spellbound Lissa to close the door and approach.

As Lissa dragged her feet across the floor, Tharja made the chair ready for her. She scooched back, making space for the princess to squeeze between her legs so she could also face the mirror. Robin’s reactions to her transformations had been a thing of beauty, and Tharja wanted the best possible seat this time.

Lissa almost collapsed onto the seat, the magic of the charm wearing thin, and Tharja had barely managed to maneuver her snugly between her thighs before it faded entirely. The paper seal fell from Lissa’s forehead, fluttering softly to the ground, and the glassy look in her eyes faded.

“Wha- Where am- Tharja!” Lissa glanced around in confusion before settling on the Dark Mage’s face, grinning evilly behind her. “What are you doing? This is really weird, even for you!” She attempted to stand, only for a gossamer stocking-clad arm to wrap around her belly, gently restraining her.

“Just wanted to come by and give you something, Princess...” Tharja drawled seductively into her captive’s ear. “Courtesy of Robin...” In her spare hand, she raised the tome, paying no heed to Lissa’s bewildered questions.

“What do you mean, something? And why did you have to curse me or whatever that was?! Why couldn’t Robin- Wait, what are you doing with that tome- Ohhhh!”

Tharja felt the dark magic coursing through the both of them, from her own fingertips into Lissa’s body, the power swirling and spreading through her, sending wonderful transformative heat rushing through every fibre of the princess’s being. She giggled maliciously as the girl twitched and moaned in her lap, finding some kind of sadistic glee in watching one of, if not the, most powerful women in Ylisse shudder and moan in her arms. It may not have been exactly what she had been looking for, but Robin’s new world order would certainly be a lot of fun either way…

+++

Lucina had been running for a solid minute before her burning lungs eventually forced her to stop. She collapsed against the wall, not even sure where in the castle she was, shoulder-length cobalt hair framing her still-crimson cheeks. Unbidden images flashed in her head of the scene she had just witnessed. Her father and Robin, bizarrely warped and debauching together… It was still difficult to process, even in a purely clinical sense. Embarrassment, shock and curiosity duelled in her head, all the while she strained to make sense of the scene she’d witnessed. Just last month, Robin had told her she had no romantic interest in her father, that she wasn’t even attracted to him! And when the two of them bumped into each other the day before, she certainly wasn’t that… Big!

Simultaneously glad and disappointed that she had not been followed, Lucina slowly righted herself. She needed to know what was going on, she owed it to her father to find out if some malicious schemes were at work. The bodily changes she had seen were clearly not natural, likely the fault of magical interference. She needed to talk to someone who she could trust, preferably one who knew a little about magic and a lot about her father. Aunt Lissa!

Her breath back under control, Lucina strode onward towards her aunt’s quarters, resolve unflinching. She didn’t know who was behind the disgusting scene she had unwittingly barged into, but whether it be Robin’s, someone else’s, or Grima’s itself, she was going to put a stop to their plans.

+++

It took a few moments for Lissa’s thoughts to return, climbing slowly to consciousness from the deep, pervading sensation of the hex taking root in her. She breathed deep, head turning back to Tharja, who now held both arms around her stomach in a curiously affectionate embrace, the tome placed on the boudoir surface.

“Wh… What was that…?” Lissa replied, still in a daze. Tharja giggled again.

“Something wonderful, Princess…” She grinned, one hand snaking between Lissa’s meager breasts to seize her chin. “Watch closely. Soon you’ll be just like us...”

The words sent alarm bells ringing in the rational part of Lissa’s head as her chin was twisted towards the boudoir mirror, directing her gaze toward her own reflection, but she paid them no heed. She felt so warm and soft, like she was wrapped in thick, cozy blankets. How could anything bad be about to happen?

As such, she barely reacted when Tharja took hold of her nightie’s neckline and tore it clean in two. She let the soft cloth slide under her body, leaving her naked and at the mercy of the dark mage. Immediately, Tharja took hold of her legs, hoisting them up and letting them hook over the armrests of the chair, exposing the princess’ cute, virgin slit. Lissa’s thighs clenched, cringing from the exposure of her most intimate spot, but she didn’t move. She just stared ahead at her reflection, watching her own chest rise and fall with her breath, entranced by her aide’s sinister smile.

“The changes should start any moment now...” Tharja mused, fingers slowly sliding down Lissa’s inner thighs.

“W-what’s gonna happen? I- Haaahhh...” Her nervous questioning was cut short by a low, breathy gasp as she began to feel her flesh reacting, buzzing with activity under her skin. Before her very eyes, she began to grow, her breasts slowly filling out, thighs swelling under Tharja’s fingertips. It all felt so warm, so good… She began to lean her head back, allowing the sensations to wash over her, only for a long-nailed hand to grip her by the chin and force it back down.

“Ah-ah-ah...” Chided Tharja in her ear, voice whisper-quiet and smooth as velvet. “You’re going to watch every moment of this...”

Lissa could only obey, her will weakened by the spell, mind soft and suggestible in Tharja’s grip. She stared into the mirror as her transformation continued, her breasts and thighs now joined by her hips, widening in her chair until their cushy sides pressed against the sides of the armrests.

“Mmm… You’re starting to look delicious, Lissa...” Tharja licked her plump lips suggestively, one hand squeezing the softness of the still-growing girl’s thigh as she did. “By the end of this you might look more like a milkmaid than a twiggy little princess. Though I’m sure all your suitors wouldn’t mind...”

Enraptured by her changes, Lissa couldn’t reply, but the words filtered through her mind all the same, bouncing around and conjuring vivid fantasies. All the men she’d seen her big sister Emmeryn turn down over the years were assembling around her, staring with hungry eyes and bulging groins, just aching to ravish her.

Her arousal only seemed to fuel her transformation, her body growing ever more voluptuous, hips and thighs pressing against the confines of the chair as her lips began to fatten into a pouty O-ring. She watched her own body become steadily more unfamiliar, and although her mind may have not had the capacity to process it, her body very much did.

A bead of moisture slipped from her slit, dripping onto the chair’s upholstery. Tharja glanced down at the errant droplet and smiled.

“Seems the princess is enjoying her transformation into a plush little fuckdoll… Or maybe you like the idea of being eye candy for a room of lecherous lords?” She murmured into Lissa’s ear, slipping a hand towards her captive’s nethers. “I bet you’re just aching to get out there and spread your legs for them...”

In her mind, countless men descended on Lissa’s perfected body. Hands groped at her breasts, her ass, some slipping between her thighs to tease her. None were unwelcome. She wanted to be touched. To be the center of attention, the object of mens’ desires… Her visions only intensified as she felt Tharja’s fingers sliding into her, coiling and rubbing her slick, sensitive folds. Dozens of handsome, muscled men surrounded her as she bounced atop one more, his manhood sawing in and out of her. She felt their stares, their lust and adoration towards her, and it stirred something within her mind.

Before, she might have rallied against the idea of being a sexual icon, finding it degrading or some such nonsense. But now, being desired by so many seemed empowering. She found a new, deviant satisfaction in the idea of arousing such feelings. Imagining she could keep men straining against their clothes with but the slightest bit of skin, provoking unquenchable lust with merely a look…

Lissa’s eyes peered from her fantasy world for a moment to see what she had become, and gasped at her own beauty. Sparkling eyes and a sultry, kissable mouth dominated her elegant facial profile, the smooth gradient of her neck leading down into flawless, cantaloupe-sized breasts. All her years of wearing a corset seemed redundant in light of the impossible pinch of her waist, bursting into massive child-bearing hips and thick, creamy thighs, between which Tharja’s digits worked at her gushing, clenching honeypot. She was a walking sexual icon, the very essence of feminine maturity, and she loved it.

But her transformation wasn’t quite over. Blazing heat from the fire Tharja was stoking in her core seemed to bubble to the surface, licking over the area just below her womb. Her skin felt like it was burning, set alight by prickling flames. Before her very eyes, dark, curving patterns emerged in the space between her navel and her clit. Her pounding heart skipped a beat when she recognised the famous shape: the Brand of the Exalt. There it was! After all these years of secretly doubting her own legitimacy, working as hard as she could to be seen as an upstanding and worthy princess, the proof of her heritage was right there on her crotch. Her spirit soared, over the moon at the revelation, only to be boosted yet higher by the continued ministrations of her companion.

As Tharja’s furious fingers composed the pleasures of her growth into a thunderous crescendo, her fantasies reached their peak. Dozens of men around her came in unison, showering her perfect body and new Brand in their sticky liquid love. At that moment of teetering climax, she couldn’t imagine possibly feeling more adored, more worshipped, more royal… The feeling of composure, control and belonging was simply overwhelming.

She was finally the princess she had always dreamed of being.

And in that fantastical moment of realisation, she came harder than she ever had in her life. She let loose a wailing, wavering scream as her hips ground and squirted into Tharja's palm, her soft new body quaking with joy. To the princess, it was the greatest revelation she’d ever experienced, mixed with a heavy shot of sexual satisfaction and served with the promise of oh so much more. If she had been in any other state than this epiphanic, narcissistic euphoria, she might have registered the blue-haired girl bursting through her doorway, and the subsequent cry of:

“OH, GODS DAMN IT!”

+++

Lucina had not been thinking clearly when she approached her aunt’s quarters. In fact, she had been avoiding doing much thinking at all, deliberately clearing her mind to avoid images of her grimacing father or his seed-splattered strategist leaking through the mental barrier she was building around the memory.

So when she marched past the napping guard, stepped up to Lissa’s door, loudly announced she was there and waltzed in without so much as an affirmation, she immediately came to sorely regret doing so.

Her first sight was the distorted form of her aunt Lissa, her once petite body replaced with an ultra-curvaceous mockery of the female form. In the mirror, Lucina could see every detail, from the plush jiggle of her breasts to the ecstatic expression on her face as the dark-haired figure whose lap she sat in brought her to the peak of pleasure. Truly, those four short words couldn’t have encapsulated her feelings better.

The vast majority of her wanted to look away, but her eye was caught by a turning head, that of Lissa’s companion. A pale, lush, but heavily skeptical face came into view, and it took only a moment for Lucina to match it to one she had seen before. Tharja, the Plegian defector who had been spotted stalking Robin soon after her recruitment. Now she bore the same exaggerated features as Robin and Lissa… What did it all mean?!

The light of recognition came on in Tharja’s eyes as well, with not a hint of shame to go with it. Her pillowy lips twisted into a cruel smile, and even as she cradled the cooing, shivering body of Lissa, she looked ready to pounce on her next prize. Lucina felt a sudden urge to keep her gaze anywhere but on her, and so it darted to the nearest distraction, which happened to be a spot of pink on the boudoir.

A book. A book she’d seen before, sitting on the bed next to Robin as she knelt between her father’s legs. What was this conspiracy, and how had she not caught it before now?!

As Lucina stood there, frozen in shock with her mind whirring, Lissa finally recovered from her post-orgasmic stupor. Her long eyelashes fluttered and parted, revealing the intruder in her room. Her refined features registered surprise, the wide eyes and thick lips making her look almost vapid for a moment.

“Lucina?” She wondered aloud, and her niece’s gaze turned back to her. In that moment, it seemed what astounded her most was the utter shamelessness with which Lissa held her new body, making no effort to cover herself in front of another, as if there was nothing there she didn’t want to be seen. Her heaving tits and soaking slit sat in plain view, unabashed in their obscenity. But what finally broke Lucina’s will was the sheer absent-mindedness of what she did next.

Eyes still glued to Lucina’s, one of Lissa’s delicate hands reached between her legs and began to masturbate, spreading her folds and curling two fingers inside herself with the same casualness one might scratch an itch. That alone had her primed and ready to bolt, but one last desperate glance at Tharja yielded something almost as bad. The dark mage’s sneer had faded, her eyes flicking back from watching Lissa’s display in the mirror to give Lucina a heavy, knowing wink. The message was clear.

She was on the list.

And for the second time that day, Lucina fled down the corridors of Ylisstol castle, traumatised twice over before she’d even had breakfast.

Left behind, the two bimbos watched the door swing on its hinges for a moment before turning to each other.

“What was she doing there?” Lissa said, her idle fingers still jilling away at her pussy. “She seemed upset...”

“Don’t worry about her.” Tharja dismissed the caring notion. “You have more important matters to attend to.” Lissa blinked.

“What are those, then?” The words were barely out of her mouth before Tharja shoved her out of the chair, her newfound plushness cushioning the impact on the carpeted rug beneath them. Turning around, Tharja had relaxed into the chair, head rested on one hand as she reclined, expression disdainful. Her other hand reached between her legs and plucked her loincloth between finger and thumb, revealing the rip in her bodystocking Robin had made the previous night. Through the ragged gash Lissa could see her companion was positively drenched, soaking the upholstery of the chair.

“Thanking your mistress for your new body, to start...” Tharja deadpanned, her intention obvious.

Lissa was struck dumb by the proposal at first. She’d never considered lying with another woman before, and yet something about this was undeniably alluring. But where to start? What was she expected to do? She had experience using her fingers on herself, but what if that was just how she liked it? Was she supposed to use her mouth? Or something else? How would that work? And what about…

Tharja watched as the brand new bimbo princess’ cheeks reddened, gaze fixed on her pussy. She was not amused. She’d gone through all that trouble teasing the girl up to a mountainous fantasy-fuelled climax, and now she was struck dumb at the prospect of returning the favour? Unbelievable.

Lissa got a sudden rude awakening from her storm of doubts in the form of a hand grasping the back of her head, forcibly shoving her mouth to Tharja’s stimulation-starved honeypot.

“LICK.” Came the command, and she obeyed with a nervous mewl. Her first taste of pussy was a tentative one, but after discovering that it was actually rather nice, she began to get more into it, tracing Tharja’s folds, probing deeper as she experimented. She squeaked when Tharja barked commands at her, faster, deeper, more on that spot, but soon found the desire mounting in her own core as well. Somehow… She just liked women as well now. Although, with a body like Tharja’s, it wasn’t hard to give in…

Tharja on the other hand, was not receiving any revelations. Lissa was quite frankly amateurish at best at eating her out. But she showed enthusiasm, and the sorceress had to concede that that did count for something. If Lissa was any one thing at all, it was determined. And if she wanted to become a first-class royal harlot, well, Tharja was only too happy to help…

+++

Lucina came to a halt in the corridors yet again, panting not only from exertion, but also from panic. This ordeal was driving her insane. The twin tomes, the threatening wink, and above all else, the unrelenting lewdness of it all!

She took a moment and managed to calm herself, allowing herself to think logically. Lissa had been compromised. That put the entire royal family bar her under the sway of whoever this obscenity stemmed from. But all was not yet lost. She could still find help! But who to go for first?

Perhaps Frederick? The royal siblings’ loyal retainer would certainly stand for none of this nonsense, and perhaps be able to knock some sense into her father and aunt… But if she arrived at his door with such a ridiculous claim and no proof… Perhaps not. He would undoubtedly find out in due time.

What she needed was to understand what was going on. Someone who could make sense of the magic at work, but with enough implicit trust to work with her on this. The latter point ruled out her fellow future child, Laurent and his mother Miriel, and the only other court mage she could think of, Ricken, was away visiting family. That just left-

Oh, dear… There wasn’t even any certainty that she wouldn’t be in on it, considering Robin’s involvement. Well, it was her only remaining choice, despite the connotations that the morning’s events proceeded. It seemed it was time to pay a visit to Robin’s own daughter...

+++

“Oh, hi Lucina! Great to see you! Why so early though? I don’t usually get lonely until noon, personally.”

The future-princess sighed, equal parts relieved that she had not walked into another sex scene and exasperated by the girl before her.

“Hello, Morgan...”

Morgan was another future child, though not one Lucina had any memory of. Nor did Morgan, for that matter, of anyone else other than her mother. Ironic for one who claimed to be Robin’s future daughter to also contract near-total amnesia. Not that it put any kind of damper on the young woman, who went through life with a jovial, simple-minded attitude that belied her fierce inherited intellect. Now she stood in the doorway to her quarters, clad in plain pyjamas and her signature coat, a carbon copy of her mother’s down to the purple eye motifs on the sleeves. Her short black hair was messy, though thankfully, not from any illicit activities within the room, as in her hand she held a half-eaten bread roll. Though the two of them didn’t really gel due to their greatly differing personalities, Lucina had to admit that Morgan was a strong and dependable ally when it mattered, if one could forgive her eccentricities.

“I was hoping you could help me with something. May I come in?”

“Sure!” Morgan chirped, stepping back to allow her friend in.

Entering the room, Lucina could only try to avoid knocking several great towers of books over with every step. The room was littered with them, not even for lack of organisation but for the sheer number within the confined space. Rolls of parchment were pressed thin between used-up magical tomes and tactical theses alike, an awe-inspiring testament to Morgan’s aspirations. She moved to a central position, away from any teetering pillars of knowledge, and waited for Morgan to follow. Her friend danced between the stacks and plopped down into a chair by her desk, on which a dirty breakfast plate sat atop a complex battlefield map. Morgan swallowed another bite of her bread roll, and looked up at her.

“So, what was it? Since you wanted to come in, I guess it’s a secret? Ooh, I hope so...” Lucina groaned uneasily at her friend’s eagerness.

“I think there might be some kind of magical plot against my father in place. Earlier, as I was patrolling, I heard strange sounds from my father’s room...” She paused, trying to find the best way to word what she had seen. Morgan’s rapt, attentive stare wasn’t helping. “And when I entered, I found him and your mother engaged in… Intercourse.”

Morgan appeared stunned, crumbs sticking to her slackened jaw.

“Mom and Chrom were bumping uglies?!” She bounced in her seat, eyes wide with surprise, frustratingly blind to Lucina’s embarrassment. “But… Does that mean...”

“Morgan, stay focused-”

“That you and me...”

“Morgan...”

“We’re sisters!” The black-haired girl cried out, launching herself at Lucina to tackle her in a bear hug. Barely staying upright, the stronger Lucina soon managed to pry the jubilant younger woman off her, grimacing slightly at the carefree joy that adorned her possible sister’s face.

“The implication has not escaped my notice, Morgan. It could well be that we are indeed related. But if it were just that, I would not have come to talk to you.”

“Right, sorry. Serious face.” Morgan patted her cheeks as she sat back down, suppressing an elated chuckle. Lucina continued.

“The two of them seemed different though. Their bodies were… Statuesquely morphed. Robin in particular was…” She gestured vaguely. “...Bigger. And on their bed was a strange-looking tome.”

Morgan had quietened down now, seemingly lost in thought. Lucina, glad she had her in an appropriate mood now, went on.

“I then went to see aunt Lissa, who I found in a… Similar situation, with Tharja, and the same book.”

“And they were all hottie-fied, too?” Morgan interrupted. Lucina didn’t appreciate her predicament being made light of in such a way, but nodded.

“Yes.”

“Hmm...” Morgan’s usually cutesy face scrunched up in thought. “That is weird. And Tharja doing the nasty with anyone other than mother is REALLY weird. It does sound like magic though, almost certainly dark magic, which lines up with Tharja perfectly, and oh my Gods, I just realised I’m a princess now-”

“Morgan!” Lucina snapped, berating the girl’s wandering mind.

“Sorry! Well, that’s all very weird, but what about it? Maybe Tharja just came up with some curse that makes you all sexy. It’s not the weirdest thing she’s done.”

“I can’t take that chance.” Lucina shook her head. “If magic is at work, and it has reached father, then I must be certain no harm will come to him, body or mind.”

“Well then, let’s go and have a snoop around her room then!” Tossing the remains of her roll away, Morgan leapt to her feet, seizing Lucina’s hand. “Come on, Sis! Let’s go save Dad!”

Lucina let herself be dragged behind the giggling girl, groaning inwardly. This was going to take some getting used to...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The newly-discovered sisters, Lucina and Morgan, band together to find the source of the sexual transformations happening around the castle, though they seem to have quite different opinions on the matter at hand...

The door to Tharja’s study creaked, swinging in an agonisingly slow arc as the two young intruders pushed forward. Lucina took point, eyes sweeping the floor before her cautiously, while Morgan scampered along behind her. There was nothing to speak of for now, as deep into dangerous territory as they were.

As the shelves filled with jars of bat wings, frog eyes, and myriad other organs of indeterminate origin would attest to, this was the lair of a dark mage. And as anyone who had managed to accidentally offend Tharja (or, gods forbid, Robin) could attest, this particular one had no shortage of inventive revenge methods. The gloom seemed almost oppressive, heavy curtains blocking out the fresh morning light. Lucina and Morgan trod lightly, for fear of any wards, alarms or traps they might trigger, none too keen to be turned into a newt so early in the morning.

Eventually, standing in the middle of the room, they were more or less satisfied that there was nothing to fear. It was slightly odd, but certainly not worth complaining about.

“Right…” Lucina let out a breath of relief, casting her eyes about the room’s many macabre features. “Let’s make this quick. I’m sure neither of us have any desire to linger-”

“Wow, a third edition Necronomicon? Wonder who she had to kill to get that...” Morgan mused, her head already buried in a bookcase.

“Morgan, please, stay focused!” Lucina hissed, still unwilling to truly raise her voice for fear of what it might cause.

“You got it, Sis!” Morgan faux-whispered, punctuating the affirmation with a wink. Lucina sighed and went about scanning the room.

“Morgan, we don’t know for certain whether we’re related or not...” She mumbled as she scanned over a small table of alchemical reagents for anything obviously related to their issue. “This could all be a simple misunderstanding, for all we know.”

“Haha! Must be a big misunderstanding to have you so flustered!” Morgan sniggered over her shoulder, looking up from the many open books on Tharja’s desk. “And besides, don’t you think it would be fun to have a sibling? I’d want to be your little sister even if we’re not related, and not just to be a princess, either!”

Lucina cringed somewhat, cut painfully deep by Morgan’s trademark incisive sincerity. She took a deep breath and stood up from the table, having seen no vials labelled WARNING: Causes Extreme Breast Growth. It struck her now that she wasn’t much use in this search at all.

“Perhaps… But it wouldn’t be proper. I’m sure some of our friends would be more than happy to call you sister, though?” She attempted to deflect the subject, only for Morgan to scoff.

“Urgh, no… Loads of them have enough family issues to begin with. Heh, and I think Inigo would have a heart attack if I friend-zoned him that hard- Oh, hang on, what’s this…?”

Lucina’s ears pricked up amidst the rambling gossip, and she rushed to the desk. Peering over Morgan’s shoulder, she saw the younger woman sliding a page out from the middle of another book. Upon closer inspection, it was a different colour to the heavy grimoire’s yellowed pages, paler and newer-looking. Morgan held it to the light, revealing the full scope of its dense scribbles and arcane diagrams.

“Huh, this is Mom’s handwriting all right...” She rubbed a finger over the corner of a letter, the charcoal mark smudging slightly. “Pretty fresh, too… Looks like the schematic for a spell. And judging by these...” She glanced back and forth between the open books and the page, comparing the unfamiliar markings and mechanisms.

“...Well?” Lucina spoke out after a minute of solid study. Morgan brought the page down and looked up at her comrade.

“Well, if Mom really did just scribble this down on the fly, I need to step up my studies. If she can get this good at boob-boosting magic on the side while still beating me in chess every time-”

“Morgan, please, just take this seriously...”

“Sorry, this is still just really weird, and I don’t really know why we’re so against it either.” She gave another quick wink, and went on. “Anyway, this is definitely some kind of draft for a transformative hex. Looks pretty streamlined though, so probably the final draft. Maybe those tomes you saw were fresh copies?”

“You can read it then? Is it reversible?” Lucina leaned forward, stressing the urgency of her point. Morgan’s face scrunched up, displaying mixed emotion.

“Ehh… I can’t really read it, exactly. I’m nowhere near versed enough in dark magic to come up with something like this, all I can do is get a general idea. If I could partially cast it, maybe I could get a feel for it and see how the insides work?” She held the page between finger and thumb, turning it around, as if the angle would enlighten her further. Lucina frowned at her uncertainty.

“I don’t know much about magic, but that sounds… Dangerous.”

“Oh, no, it’ll be fine!” Morgan scoffed back at her. “Besides, what other choice do we have, we need to save Dad from the tittymonsters, right? Let’s head back to my room. I need a catalyst for this, and I’d rather not use Tharja’s. No telling where it’s been...”

“...Very well.” Lucina fought to hold her tongue, straightened up, and began the ginger journey back out of the room, Morgan practically skipping along in her shadow, high off the thrill of discovery. Again, they peeked around the door, finding the secluded corridor vacant, and slipped out, moving quickly back to the safety of a room that wasn’t steeped in curses.

Mere moments after they turned the corner, another head popped into view from the opposite end of the corridor. A blonde-haired one, bearing a trailing white headdress and twin pigtails.

“They’re gone!” Lissa whispered to her companion.

“Finally...” Droned Tharja, waltzing out of their hiding space towards her own room. Lissa followed, skipping along beside her, smiling to herself with her lovely new lips. Fully dressed now, she had also received a wardrobe upgrade courtesy of the hex, her usual modest dress replaced by an elegant, yet raunchy new number. Pale, lacey yellow cloth clung to her curves and slivered down her arms into flaring sleeves, while dainty white ruffles looped around the generous bulge of her bust, protecting some shred of her modesty from the slightly translucent material. The undercarriage of her skirt had pulled back, opening the front to showcase her luscious legs, clad in tight snow-white stockings and ending with a pair of cute heeled pumps. Pulling the ensemble together, a tiny corset, more for show than anything else, sat comfortably over the pinch of her waist, just above an expansive window showcasing the flawless skin of her abdomen, baring her Exalted brand for all to see. It was as if the hex had known she wanted to show off the mark as much as possible, and it wholly made up for the fact in her mind that there was little the outfit left to the imagination. Hell, one might even consider that a positive. She was rather sure anyone who looked at her would, at least.

The two had finished their tryst a few minutes prior, and after a short explanation and rather hands-on dress up, they’d set off to monitor the progress of Robin’s grand plan… Whatever it actually was. Tharja had honestly been less than forthcoming. But Lissa knew Robin well enough to know nothing got by her, and if it meant everybody was going to end up smoking hot like she had, she was all for it.

Now, even post-transformation and in comparable heels, Lissa still had to look up to Tharja as she strode back to the door of her study, the dark mage grumbling softly as she reached for the doorknob. Pushing down the twinge of annoyance that she’d grown out but not up, the princess spoke up, frowning.

“Wait, where are you going? I thought we were following them?” Tharja met Lissa’s disapproving look with eyes of unmoving granite.

“Give me a minute. I have to put my security spells back on. I tolerated their presence this once, but I shan’t have more intruders in my workspace.” Her response was measured, respectful, but clearly unrepentant. The tone lit a rising flame of defiance in Lissa, only for that to immediately be doused by the mumbled, under-her-breath follow-up as Tharja turned back to the door: “They better not have touched my shrine...”

Admonishing words had already began to form in the back of Lissa’s throat, but that stopped them dead. She didn’t really want to pry further. She might have had a reputation for speaking her mind, but Tharja’s “hobbies” were a can of beans she thought best left unopened. So, as the dour dark mage disappeared into her lair, Lissa was left outside with only her thoughts.

Subconsciously, she smoothed over a wrinkle in her dress, a fingertip straying over the edge of the window, brushing over her delicate, milky-pale skin. She glanced down, immediately realising that her heavy new endowments blocked the view of her abdomen entirely. Pouting slightly to herself, she slid the finger inward, tracing over the region she knew the mark was.

Though the gentle touch on her skin was shiver-inducing, she couldn’t directly touch the brand. The skin felt identically smooth across the entirety of her stomach. Nonetheless, she could feel it inside, like a comforting belt of warmth just beneath the surface. As she traced across the curving mark, her mind wandered back to the vivid fantasies she’d had during her transformation. She blushed, shifting on her feet slightly with an adorable little wiggle, pursing her lips as she indulged a little in the privacy of her mind.

The carnal images seemed no less arousing now than they had then, but what struck her more was the emotion she’d felt. The maturity, the beauty, the utter command of attention. Despite being so flagrantly indecent, to her it still somehow seemed incredibly royal. She supposed that might be the magic talking, but it made sense.

Her mental debauchery growing more obscene by the second, she had to resist the urge to touch herself. This escapade of theirs was so exciting, in more ways than one. She wanted to keep at the sneaky spy mission she and Tharja were on, but there was also the urge to jump on the first person she saw and ride them til the end of time... Though she wasn’t sure how well that’d go down, even if she was the princess.

She began to pout again, thick lower lip wobbling as she huffed to herself. There she was, Princess of Ylisse and solidly one of the top three hottest women in the country, and there she was, standing in a corridor, alone, dejected and horny. It wasn’t fair...

Then, for a moment, the throbbing in her loins seemed to focus her mind. If this magic could catch, even become the norm, she could use that. If everyone was as into sex as she was right now, she could earn their respect that way! It would certainly be a lot more fun than needlework and etiquette classes. With enough practice, she could wield the same commanding grace her sister Emmeryn had, with sex appeal as her medium!

She glanced back to Tharja’s door, fingers curling around the high front hem of her skirt, mere inches from her most intimate spot. It cried out for attention, and she honestly couldn’t justify saying no. She braced herself, steeling her nerves for what she had to do, a resolute smile taking hold on her dainty features.

She turned on a heel and took ahold of the doorknob, marching straight into Tharja’s lair with a look of stoic determination. Lucina and Morgan would be fine. She needed lots of practice if she was going to be the most regal princess in all the lands, after all...

+++

“Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here...”

Lucina sat on the edge of Morgan’s bed, arms and knees together, watching as the younger girl squinted at the page she held in one hand, the other waving about some obscure magical component she had no idea as to the function of.

Lines of warm orange power began to form in the air around the gesticulating mage, though not as Lucina frequently saw them on the battlefield. The runes were alone, free-floating, and the rings of light trailed through the air, fading like the trail of a firework as they spun like lazy comets around Morgan.

“Well?” Lucina said, for what felt like the tenth time that morning, her own inability to contribute frustrating her to no end. “What do you see?”

“Hmm… I’m not really sure.” Morgan hummed, cocking her head as she tested the innards of the spell. “It’s pretty concisely written, and I don’t recognise a lot of these symbols. Better go deeper...”

The lines and letters around her grew brighter, bolder and faster, now nearing full rings and coherent strings of characters. Lucina blinked, concern showing on her face.

“Be careful, Morgan. The last thing we want is for it to activate.”

“Oh, quit it, Sis.” Morgan flippantly replied. “I’m not dumb enough to trigger the start mechanism, I know enough about magic to-”

All of a sudden, there was a pulse of light from the floating lines, the familiar soft orange briefly taking on a new hue: Pink. It was gone as soon as it had appeared, but it left the two women in shock.

“...Morgan, what was that?” Lucina deadpanned, panic blooming in her chest as the rings of magic began to glow even brighter, spinning faster still, the faint tinkling sound of casting starting to bloom in the background.

“Uh… Nothing, nothing! It’s fine, I just have to-” Morgan’s hand swiped through the air, attempting to terminate the spell, only for nothing to happen. The magic circles continued to swell, their hue shifting from orange, through peach, to a brilliant, permanent magenta. Lucina stood, looking for a way out as Morgan frantically tried to stop the escalating magic. The near-musical noise grew stronger and stronger, until it suddenly stopped, sounding an all too familiar tone. The circles froze in midair. There was a moment of terrified silence.

“Oh well.” Morgan sighed. “Can’t be that bad.”

A fraction of a second later, the room was engulfed in all-consuming pink.

+++

Lucina recovered quickly from the bursting colour, coughing and spluttering through the fog that had burst through the room, assaulting all her senses. Her eyes stung, her nose burned, and on her tongue she felt a sickly, artificial sweetness.

“Morgan!” She cried out into the magenta mist, taking an unsteady step forward. “Are you alright?” The affirming response was a few coughs from the floor before her.

“Ugh… Yeah, I’m okay.”

The cloying fog began to clear, revealing the room itself, in even more chaos than it had been before. Every stack of books and scripts had been upturned, strewn over the floor in great, surging hills. Morgan took a look around, squinting through slightly watery eyes, and sighed. Lucina let out a breath of relief.

“It would appear that spell is more untamed than you thought. But at least nothing bad happened. We should count our blessings.” She relaxed, rubbing at her eye with one finger as Morgan got back on her feet.

“Yeah, sorry. Not sure what happened there. Dark magic is weird stuff, I definitely thought it triggered the-” She stopped mid-sentence, her head bobbing as if struck by a strange sensation. “Uh…?” Her hand went to her forehead, eyes scrunching closed.

“Morgan? Are you sure you’re okay?” Lucina’s brow furrowed with concern. She took a step toward her friend, only to stagger, gasping as a bolt of sensation ran through her body. Her tunic suddenly felt incredibly tight, and the motion had compressed it further. She fell to one knee, panting, every flex of her body changing the pressures of her clothing, flexing around her almost painfully-bound bosom, wracking her body with tactile earthquakes. Through it all, she managed to choke out a few more words: “Morgan… W-wha-”

“Oh, Sis, what’s wrong...?” Morgan’s voice drawled from above her, in a tone she’d never yet heard. It was sultry, deep and suggestive, the voice of a seductress. Ignoring the unwelcome pangs of pleasure in her chest, she craned her head up, eyes meeting Morgan’s as the smaller girl loomed over her. One eyelid drooped half-closed, the other wide open in a slanted, mocking expression, but that was not what disturbed Lucina. It was that the eyes themselves seemed clouded, her irises consumed by roiling pink, and the predatory glint therein as Morgan stared down at her.

“M-Morgan?” The kneeling princess stammered in desperation, breath already running short. Blue eyes stared pleadingly up into burning pink-tinted ones, begging for some fragment of reassurance.

The dark-haired enchantee offered no reply, save for a sensuous licking of her lips...

+++

“Nooooo! Gah! Morgan, please- AAAAH!”

Lucina lay belly-up on Morgan’s bed, now straddled by her hexed accomplice, the belt which held Falchion knocked to the floor beside them. Morgan had pushed her onto the bed and was keeping her there with little effort, the breath-stealing tightness of her clothes sapping the strength from her limbs. It went beyond her chest now, with every inch of clothing now feeling like tight, impossibly finely textured cloth, stimulating her skin like a thousand tiny hands. Even the shifting of her boots on her feet threatened to drive her insane, every twitching toe feeling as if they were caught in an electric cage.

Trapped under Morgan’s weight, she lay there, helpless as Morgan assaulted her body. At first, she had no idea what to expect, until Morgan’s palms descended upon her chest, the firm pressure on her oversensitive breasts sending lightning bolts ricocheting through her body. She instantly broke into a chorus of involuntary squeaks and moans, backed by the playful, sadistic giggling of her torturer.

“Aww, your moans are so cute, Luci!” Morgan tittered, her tone playful yet demeaning. “You must be feeling really good...” She stopped her rhythmic massaging for a second, only to jab into the centres of Lucina’s mounds with her index fingers, pressing into the squirming girl’s rock-hard nipples, causing her victim to squeal and tense under her. She sighed in contentment, witnessing Lucina’s involuntary enjoyment. “Mmm… You look like you’re having so much fun...”

“P-please, Morgan... S-stop… Ah!” Paying no attention to the princess’ pleas, Morgan resumed her slow breast massage, drowning Lucina’s higher functions in stimulation once again.

“Aww, loosen up, Sis… No use fighting it now...” She continued the erogenous torture for another moment, until she let out a gasp of her own. Her massage faltered, letting Lucina pry her own eyes open to witness Morgan’s transformation.

It began in her clothes, the plain off-grey pyjama suit she wore growing slightly paler, slightly tighter, the weight of her cloak simultaneously evaporating away. Morgan met them halfway, the fabric shrink-wrapping her expanding body, the excess slipping away to form an intricate white brassiere and matching pair of panties that clung to her as she grew. Lucina watched in horror as Morgan cast her head back, moaning in ecstasy, her petite chest doubling in size with every second that passed, the rest of her body lagging shortly behind, soon bursting with soft, flawless flesh.

Gasping, Morgan wobbled atop Lucina, her new titanic tits jiggling in their meager restraints. Her thickened hips and thighs tightened over Lucina’s midsection as the shivers ran through her. Levelling her gaze, Lucina saw the final touches to her new look, with lengthened eyelashes, lit from within by the pink glow possessing her, and thin yet full lips, stained an inky black and already curling into an evil smile.

“Wow, what a rush…” Morgan panted, tossing her shoulder-length bob about to clear her head. Her hands slid up her midsection, cupping her own breasts and squeezing them hard. “Hah… You’re going to love this, Luci… But let's get you some air first...”

Lucina feebly raised her arms to protect her clothing, but the slightest weight on her chest reduced her to mewling mush once again. She ought to feel so violated, so helpless and defeated. After all, her effort had been entirely for nought, brought low by her own assistant. But she couldn’t. Her every moment was overwhelming bliss, the current so strong it threatened to pull her down to the depths of bottomless lust with every second that passed. Despite knowing in her heart it was wrong, when faced with such insurmountable ecstasy, she couldn’t help but want more.

While Lucina was distracted with her introspection, Morgan fiddled with the buttons of her tunic for a moment, newly pointed nails making it somewhat awkward. Eventually, she found the catch, and popped each one in turn, keeping the tunic closed.

“Ready, Sis? This is going to feel amazing...” Lucina barely had time to peer through the haze on her senses before she was swallowed up yet again. Morgan threw back the hem of the tunic, exposing Lucina’s chest to the air. For an instant, she was free of the crushing pressure that had blighted her mind, only for the chill of the air to settle against her newly exposed hypersensitive skin, to her feeling as if ice water had been dumped over her body, sweeping away her mind like a tidal wave.

Morgan laughed as Lucina squealed once more, involuntarily arching her back and shoving her exposed chest into the air. She wore no underclothes, so all was on display, from the defined outlines of her clenching abs to the tiny bump of her breasts, each capped with a small, painfully hard nipple.

“So cute and tiny… But not for much longer.” Morgan cooed, rubbing her palms up and down Lucina’s torso, adding to her quaking torment. “Get ready for the big moment, Sis...”

Some part of Lucina’s frazzled brain heard her words, and knew she was right. She could feel the magic coiling within her, ready to surge to the surface and remake her. What was most surprising was that she no longer had the will to oppose it. As the flames of change licked under her skin, she screwed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth, making ready for the inevitable tsunami of pleasure that would sweep her away.

At first, all that she felt was a tingle across her entire body, like the rush she felt post-exercise. It spread and intensified, holding her to unbearable tension, until it seemed to burst. In one movement, her entire body seemed to pop, her back shaking as she gained a sizable burst of height, every muscle swelling to prominent definition, the only fat in sight collecting at her chest and posterior. She shortly felt them growing too, pooling under her and into Morgan’s hands, brimming with nerves and begging to be fondled.

All the while, her clothes seemed to be shrinking away. The cloak she lay on was unaffected, but the open tunic hanging from her shoulders was not so lucky, the hem receding to the bottom of her still-surging boobs, sleeves disappearing completely to reveal her delicately muscular arms. Under Morgan’s hips, the same thing was happening, her trousers curling up from under her thigh-high boots to form a tight pair of booty shorts, leaving a visible gap of pale, creamy skin. Further down still, her utilitarian boots sprouted the impractical heels she’d seen so often that day, taking on an air of class they’d not had before.

Lucina had yet to bear witness to her change, but she could feel it in excruciating detail. Morgan continued to play with her still-swelling tits, planting her face between them and luxuriating in their softness, occasionally pinching a nipple, making Lucina spasm through it all. On top of everything else, it was almost too much to bear. The orgasmic torture of the past few minutes was coming to a head, cresting the wave of her transformation. She felt her core tighten, coiling around the raging libidinous fire within her, blood rushing to her head as she braced once more, the magic plumping her lips as she let out one last gasp, as if to complete her. She teetered on the edge of oblivion… And came.

Lucina had never been one to waste time masturbating, and had never had the luxury of getting attached to a partner in her own world. Indeed, this was the first orgasm of her life, and it changed her.

She screamed aloud between her new dick-sucking lips, hands bunching in Morgan’s sheets as her first orgasm ever tore through her. She convulsed, volleyball-sized breasts jiggling like crazy, every muscle in her athletic frame tightening, toes curling in her boots in a moment of unforgettable bliss. It lasted for a full thirty seconds, consuming her mind entirely, wiping it clean by the intensity alone.

Eventually, it subsided, leaving her adrift, exhausted and peaceful. Far away, she felt Morgan collapse atop her, head between her breasts. Her arms subconsciously embraced her friend, limply encircling her out of some deep, instinctual affection. There was no grudge to hold for what had transpired, just simple-minded acceptance. No doubt clouded her mind as her eyes fell closed, her mind at peace as she slipped into the darkness of sleep.

+++

“Lucina? Morgan? You guys in there?” 

Lucina found herself roused from slumber by a chipper voice, followed by the sound of a creaking door. The information filtered through her sleepy brain slowly, her mind feeling particularly frazzled. A weight lifted from her chest, the tickle of hair on her bare breast coaxing her into lucidity.

“Oh, hi! Wow, Lucina wasn't kidding, Lissa, you look so hot! Oh, and you too, Tharja!”

The words moved sluggishly through Lucina’s mind as her eyes fluttered open. This was relevant, somehow…

“Aww, thanks! You’re looking good yourself! Guess you had a little accident with that spell? How’s Lucina doing?”

The spell. Lucina snapped awake, instantly bolting upright, head frantically scanning the room, barely noticing the heavy bounce that accompanied the movement. What she saw was three people smiling at her. Morgan, at the edge of the bed, looking slightly cheeky but seemingly back to normal, her eyes their usual dull grey once again. Lissa, looking much the same as their last encounter, though dressed in something that Lucina likened to a sluttified version of a dress that a doll she had once owned wore. Lastly, Tharja, skulking in the shadow of the entryway, arms crossed over her chest, hip cocked and smirking knowingly.

It was strangely becalming, and as Lucina glanced around, the heaving of her breath brought to attention her state of dress, or rather, undress. She glanced down to the perfect, shapely orbs hanging from her chest and squeaked in shame. She rushed to cover herself, trying desperately to rebutton her tunic but hampered by its new form. Try as she might, she could barely get three buttons done up, revealing a huge window of cleavage.

The other occupants of the room giggled at her predicament, Lissa stepping over the book-covered floor to stand at her bedside.

“It’s fine, Lucina, don’t worry… We’re all ladies here, right?” She reached out and wrapped Lucina’s scrambling arms in a hug, completely consuming one lithe bicep in soft, frilly bosom. Becalmed but still discomforted, Lucina stopped trying to cram her breasts away and sank into her auntie’s embrace.

“I failed...” She murmured. “I let it get to me too...”

“Aww, come on, Lucina!” Lissa cheered, reaching up to stroke the silky cobalt cascade of her niece’s hair. “There’s nothing bad about this, is there? You’re still you! I personally think it’s an upgrade!”

She stepped back slightly and gestured to her abdomen, indicating the brand on her taut belly, visible through the window in her dress.

“Aunt Lissa, your brand…?” Lucina blinked in shock.

“I know! After all this time, it’s finally appeared! Isn’t it amazing?” Lissa looked back to the room, letting Morgan peer in and fuss over it too, even giving it an experimental poke. Tharja remained at the back, rolling her eyes but still smiling faintly.

“That’s amazing!” Morgan wondered, tracing the lines of the brand with her finger. “Dark magic really is awesome!” In that instant, she stood up and bounded over to Tharja, wrapping her arms around her waist and beginning to beg: “Oh, pleasepleaseplease teach me!”

“Not even under pain of death would I do such a thing.” Tharja scoffed, leering down at Morgan over the top of her tits.

“Oh, come on! I activated the spell on that page from your book! I’m a natural, see?”

“Because I trapped it, you ignorant child.”

Lucina reeled at the off-beat revelation.

“Then you planned this?! I knew it!” She cried out, accusatory. Tharja paused in her attempts to pry Morgan away to retort.

“Robin planned this. This morning, after we awoke from our post-transformation lovemaking.” The pale skin of the dark mage’s face grew a tad rosier, her smile slightly more genuine. “It was a failsafe, a precaution, and an exceedingly generous gift in one. I would expect nothing less of her. You are the ones at fault.”

Lucina blinked. Robin was the mastermind then? But would that mean- Wait, what was that? Lucina’s eye was drawn to Morgan’s rear as it swayed back and forth, its owner still trying to buy Tharja’s tutelage. The back of her long coat seemed to have split into two trailing coattails during her transformation, the split running all the way to the small of the exuberant bimbo’s back. And in the cleft between them, flitted a patterned discolouration of skin…

“Wait, Morgan… On your back, under your coat. Just above your... Smallclothes.”

Morgan looked back, curiously, and acquiesced, lifting the join of her coattails. Rest assured, in the space just above her ass there was emblazoned another brand of the Exalt. Lucina stood stock still. Lissa squealed in excitement. Morgan looked confused.

The next few moments passed in a daze for Lucina as Lissa ran to hug Morgan, to locate a mirror and show her her new tramp stamp bearing the mark of divine royalty. The two hugged, cheered and bounced, while Lucina went through the dreaded logical steps required.

“But… That can only mean that Father...”

“Did I hear someone mention me? We were just coming by to check in...”

Tharja glanced to her left and stepped aside, letting two new figures step into the room. First Chrom, now fully dressed, followed immediately by Robin, hanging off his arm despite reaching several inches taller in her heels.

The room went about their various reactions, with Lissa stepping up to enthuse and show off her brand to Chrom, Morgan excitedly showing her mother her own brand, and Tharja sidling in to be by Robin’s side. But Lucina was merely stunned. The world fell away, leaving only her father.

He was the same as she had glimpsed before in his carnal bout with Robin, but her perspective seemed to have changed. He had always been a handsome and gallant man, but with his imposing new height, unruly hair and immaculate musculature combined with the same warm smile she had always loved to see… Her heart jumped in a way that she had never experienced before, thrumming through her body and resonating with discomforting strength in her nethers…

“Well, there’s really no doubt about it now, is there? With Morgan’s brand and all. Though it’ll be Lucina first, of course.” Hearing her name among Robin’s words snapped her from her reverie. It seemed they had been directed at Lissa.

“But are you sure you’re pregnant?” Lissa’s earnest question sent Lucina’s nerves screaming. What was this feeling? Anger? Jealousy? Supreme embarrassment? If it was either of the former two, it seemed she had nothing on Tharja.

Her reaction going unnoticed, Robin just laughed.

“Oh, trust me, there’s no way I’m not...” As if to prove the tactician’s point, out of the corner of her eye, Lucina caught a tiny glint of light from below Robin’s waist. Flashing in a shaft of sunlight was a thick, globular bead of semen, dripping slowly down the inside of Robin’s fly. As the conversation was turned away from her by a comedic elbow in Chrom’s ribs by Lissa, Robin discreetly flicked a finger under her skirt, scooping up the errant blob and sucking it into her mouth. Lucina was horrified, stunned and so much more, wrestling with more concurrent emotion than she’d ever had to before in her life.

“So I am a princess after all!” Morgan cheered triumphantly, breaking the spell over Lucina again.

“That’s right. Just don’t let it go to your head.” Chrom smiled, reaching down to ruffle Morgan’s hair. She beamed at the contact and nuzzled into his touch, looking up at him with the faintest hint of mischief.

“Don’t you worry about me, Daddy...” The tone of that final word was innocent enough to pass under everyone else’s radar, but to the still reeling Lucina it nearly set her head spinning again.

“I suppose that makes us one big, happy royal family!” Robin grinned warmly through her magnificently distended lips, grasping the arms of both Chrom and Morgan to pull them together in a loving embrace.

“Uh, does that include-” Chrom glanced over his lover’s shoulder, looking for Tharja, only for her to appear just below him, nestled firmly into Robin’s side.

“It does include me, your grace, thank you very much…” Tharja glared up at him like an overfriendly snake. “I am a concubine at the very least...”

Her father silenced, Lucina had no idea how to react as Lissa joyously joined the pile. Her thoughts ran a mile a minute. What was going on? Her whole world was being reordered in front of her. She raised her gaze once more, and met Robin’s. Her mother’s, she now realised. It was beyond all doubt. Her birthday was in nine months after all…

Her mother reached out with one manicured hand, offering her a place in the group hug. Having little else to do, she placed her hand in hers. Robin pulled her in, the others wrapping arms around her such that she was held there, head in her mother’s bosom as she towered above all the rest of them.

The hug grew warm and tight, giving Lucina a feeling of protection and belonging that she was not often afforded. Robin tilted her head up, looking down at her daughter’s confused expression with eyes full of pure love.

“Don’t worry Lucina. I can scarcely imagine what you’ve been though, never knowing your mother in your own world must have been terrible. But you’re here now, and I fully intend to make up for all the lost time...”

The last word was punctuated with a soft, lush kiss on Lucina’s forehead as she was cuddled deeper into the alpha bimbo’s chest. Her brain fried, Lucina could resist no more. She closed her eyes, let out her held breath, and allowed the voices of her family to fade into the background, leaving her floating in a soft, peaceful void.

When she had set out from her own world as a warrior princess, hardened by suffering and bloodshed, this was not what she had been expecting as a consequence of changing fate…

But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sumia and Cordelia are shocked and disappointed in equal measure by the sudden developments in Chrom's love life. Cordelia seems to think a confrontation is in order...

Outside the castle, in the training grounds, wrapped in the crisp morning air and utterly oblivious to the bizarre family event unfolding within, two Pegasus Knights, a brunette and a redhead, trained with the lance.

Their names were Sumia and Cordelia. Friends since childhood and sworn protectors of Ylisse. That said, Cordelia was far the senior knight, and it showed as she led the training, doing so with expertise that rivalled that of her own superior, Sir Frederick. Her serious demeanour and near-universal prodigal abilities had boosted her far above her friend in status, only to be brought together again by fate.

Sumia, on the other hand, replaced raw ability and confidence with unbridled enthusiasm. Even when meeting her friend at unreasonable hours in the morning to work herself ragged before breakfast, her cheerful spirit never faltered.

After stretches, warm-ups and drills with their practice spears, they started to duel. They kept at it for close to an hour, long sparring matches followed by short breaks. In their final bout, the two of them were battling exhaustion too. Cordelia blocked a thrust from Sumia, jabbing with her own weapon, hesitant to commit to an attack she may not have the strength to follow. Sumia ducked to the side, letting Cordelia draw back, the weakness in her arms leaving her weapon low for a moment. With one final burst of strength, Sumia surged forward to capitalise-

And fell flat on her face.

With a clatter of armour plates and a girlish squeal, she tumbled to the ground, tripping over seemingly nothing. Cordelia blinked, and sighed dramatically, planting her lance in the ground beside her as she bent down to help her friend up.

“I think that’s enough for now.” She smiled, taking Sumia’s hand. The light-haired pegasus rider returned the smile, grimacing slightly as she was helped to her feet.

“I did last a lot longer this time!” She chirped out between heavy breaths. Cordelia had to admit, it was true. Sumia usually tripped once every twenty minutes, without fail. Her balance was truly atrocious. Perhaps that was why she had ended up in a mounted unit, come to think of it…

“That you did. And your lance technique is improving too.” Sumia stood, leaning on her spear, smiling softly.

“Thanks. I might never be as good as you, but I’ll do my very best!” Cordelia smiled back and patted her shoulder, hefting her own lance.

“Come on, let’s head back. There should be time to grab some leftovers from the kitchen before we head out on patrol.”

+++

The castle armory’s door swung closed behind Cordelia for the second time that day, her having taken it upon herself to personally check and maintain the barracks’ weapon stash. Some would call it madness, but to her, it was a simple leveraging of her abilities. She managed to hold back her instinctive drawn-out sigh, if only to save face in the company of Sumia. She looked up from the handle to her friend, and they fell in towards the kitchens. As usual, they began to chatter and gossip a little, a small indulgence for soldiers like themselves.

“Have you seen Philia lately?” Sumia asked, speaking of their old unit leader.

“No, but I haven’t heard much good. Is her leg still bad?”

“Yes… She can walk but she doesn’t even get out of bed most days. Sad, really. She did everything she could for Exalt Emmeryn, and yet… Oh, it’s awful.”

“It is. We should really visit later. I-”

Cordelia cut short as she heard a voice up ahead. A masculine one that she knew all too well, that dispelled the dour subject matter sent her heart a-fluttering even with the barest suggestion of a word. Chrom.

She knew she was hardly the only woman in the halidom to harbour a crush on the Exalt, but she liked to think hers ran far deeper than most. Having known him, talked with him (or at least excitedly rambled) and fought for his cause, there was little doubt in her mind that she was in love. But the way he looked at her, she knew he didn’t feel the same way. There were a great many horses in the race for his heart, none the least Sumia, right next to her, as much as she might try to hide it for the sake of their friendship. She knew she had to let go of these girlish fantasies eventually… But saying that didn’t stop the heartache.

The man in question’s voice echoed from around the next corner, deep and smooth as ever. Maybe even more so. He seemed mid-conversation, and Cordelia found herself checking her apparel, discreetly straightening her breastplate, tucking hair behind her ear.

“Oh, is that Chrom?” Sumia’s ears pricked up as she heard him too. “Let’s go and say hello!” She skipped forward a step, hastening, nearly forcing Cordelia to jog to keep up.

As they got closer, it was possible to make out a second, more feminine voice that could soon be placed as Robin. Cordelia considered Robin a good friend, one of the few she truly had, and was far from alone in the former matter. She’d won the respect and comradeship of damn near the whole of Ylisse since Chrom had apparently found her lying in a field. Best of all, she was incredibly professional, despite her eccentricities, and mindful of her position’s appearance to the public. It would be unseemly for the army’s tactician to appear closer than necessary to the ruler, after all. Cordelia was greatly thankful that at least she wasn’t in the running for Chrom…

They drew yet nearer, and the details of the conversation became audible.

“...council to make the announcement.” Chrom finished his sentence.

“Sure. I’ll go and talk with Tharja about the potion. Good luck honey~”

That final word made the redheaded knight falter. Honey? Why in the world was she calling Chrom that? And that tone-

“Oop-!” Sumia yelped, triggering a reflexive sigh from her friend, who already knew what was about to happen. Somehow, yet again, Sumia had managed to trip over absolutely nothing at all, her front leg slipping out from under her in a perfect arc straight out of a slapstick routine. Cordelia leapt forward out of sheer ingrained instinct, but was too far behind to catch her.

Sumia careened forward, eyes wide, arms out to safely break her fall like the practised klutz she was, and soared across the boundary of the corner, crashing to the ground, her breastplate clanging loudly on the stone.

“Sumia!” Cordelia called after her, equal parts concerned and exasperated. She’d been doing so well…

Rushing to her friend’s side, Cordelia initially intended to glance up at the two they’d heard, maybe utter a quick apology, help Sumia up, and continue from there. But funnily enough, that wasn’t what happened.

She’d gotten halfway to her friend’s side, knelt down, legs together to save her modesty, looked up, and stopped. The sight before her was stupefying, for more reasons than she could count.

Before her, as expected, were Robin and Chrom. What she hadn’t expected was for the two of them to be… Like THAT. Robin stood what had to be at least a foot taller than her, atop the most ludicrous heeled boots Cordelia had ever seen, and wore barely more than a few scraps of clothing to cover her curvaceous, obscenely erotic body. Chrom’s own enhanced height was less of a shock, and his outfit less outrageous, but from the skintight nature of his tunic and trousers, and not least the muscle definition of his one bare arm, Cordelia could merely quiver at the bulging, powerful musculature he now bore. But perhaps the biggest surprise of all was the way they embraced, with their lips were locked so tightly one could only assume they could taste each others’ tonsils. As Sumia had come crashing into their view, they’d noticed, their embrace frozen, gazes now staring down at the pair of knights, but they’d yet to break contact.

“Wha…?” Cordelia gawped, unable to even begin. Sumia groaned and got to her knees, looked up, and immediately joined her.

“Uh…” She joined the stare, eyes wide and brain struggling to keep up.

With a wet pop, the bimbo-himbo pair detached, a string of saliva briefly connecting their lips before breaking. Chrom wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, glancing away for a second as if minutely embarrassed before turning towards the two newcomers.

“Are you alright, Sumia?” He bent down, looming over the two of them even as he fell to one knee, offering a hand to help the fallen maiden up. Cordelia didn’t even stand as he effortlessly hauled Sumia to her feet, Sumia herself almost losing her balance again as they both continued to stare.

“Ylisse to the Pegasus knights?” Robin chuckled down at the pair, towering over everyone, eyebrow raised, a hand resting on sultry cocked hips.

“What… What happened to you two?” Sumia managed, Cordelia still far too flabbergasted to comment. Chrom grinned, stepping past Sumia to the gawping redhead, extending a muscular arm to get her on her feet as well.

“A little bit of magic, you could say. You’ll hear all about it soon enough. I guess you two were on your way to the mess hall?”

The storm of emotions inside Cordelia’s mind was quelled the instant she realised that Chrom’s handsome face was leaning over her, gazing down into her eyes, unflinching and expectant. Pushing down no small amount of heartbreak, fluster and (Naga above forgive her) indecent thoughts, she stammered out a response.

“Y-yes sire! W-we were just doing some early training...” She found talking to Chrom a harrowing enough ordeal normally, but looking at the warm features of the man she’d loved for so long, amplified into a full-on, steaming-hot sex machine was very nearly too much to bear, overpowering all her uncertainty. She already felt like she was melting, knees about to buckle all over again. Sheer adrenaline kept her on her feet.

Chrom smiled, straightening up to look between the two girls.

“Good to know. But don’t push yourselves too hard, you hear? Enjoy the peace while it lasts. Now, you’d better run along before Gaius cleans out the last of the fruit preserves. Let’s talk later, okay?” Resting a supportive hand on each of their shoulders for a moment in an almost patronisingly fatherly way, he glanced back to Robin and walked away, leaving the three women alone.

“But...” Sumia whimpered, looking like a deer in headlights, clearly overwhelmed.

Robin sighed, tossing her long white hair about behind her, shifting her hips as she did so.

“Well, you heard him. Looks like we’re all busy, right girls?” She winked playfully and turned on a heel, strutting off in the opposite direction to Chrom. As the two remaining women gawked after her, the way she walked seemed to add insult to injury, her hips swaying hypnotically as her boots clicked on the stone, skirt flitting to and fro as she moved, flashing well over half of her voluptuous rear.

Soon, she too turned a corner, cutting an impossible profile in the distance, and the two knights were left alone. They stood in silence for a long moment, still as the grave, almost not wanting to believe what had just unfolded before them. After what felt like an hour, Sumia, her voice weak with incredulity, broke the mood.

“Out of everyone… He picked Robin?”

+++

Half a day later, the shock still hadn’t faded.

The two of them had stumbled to the mess hall, eaten in silence, and departed for patrol duty. While stopping off in a small village, they’d heard Chrom’s announcement from the town crier. He and Robin had not just gone from zero to tongue-wrestling, but straight to a proposal. They were engaged! Robin was to be a queen!

There were of course rumours, as there always were, though particularly so now, with them sporting such a different… Look. But no gossiping citizen seemed particularly concerned. As much as both the relationship and transformation had come out of nowhere, Robin’s public reputation as a front-line heroine in the recent war against Plegia preceded her. It seemed the public trusted her.

Their ease with the situation only served to exacerbate Cordelia’s feelings of dejection. Returning to the stables late that afternoon, leading her pegasus by the reins, she almost wanted to cry. Sumia had excused herself, looking much the same on the trip back, as had the rest of their squad, leaving her alone to settle her pegasus for the night.

She busied her hands with the process of grooming the winged beast, going through practised motions automatically as she stewed in her emotions. She’d known it would never have been her he’d pick. And, as out of the blue it was, Robin was a good person and would surely make a good-

“Oh, what am I thinking?!” She huffed, casting a brush to the rough-hewn floor. Why was she making excuses to herself when something was so clearly amiss? They’d not shown a single spark of romance before now, and now they were engaged? No less the two of them looking like they’d jumped out of a teenager’s fantastical wet dream? She knew Robin wasn’t the kind of person that would manipulate others for her own gain, but it was still extremely odd…

Her head turned, looking out through the stable window to the pink-orange hues of the sunset sky. Her gaze shifted, looking up to the peak of Ylisstol castle, just visible in the window frame. She closed her eyes, sighing once again, only to reopen them, sporting a steely, determined glint. She had to find out what was going on.

“Come on, girl…” She cooed to the pegasus, gently coaxing it back towards the doors. “We’ve still got work to do...”

+++

Little more than half an hour later, night had fallen on the city. Lamps illuminated the insides of commoners’ homes, spilling out into steadily-quietening streets. Cordelia however, was nowhere to be found. At least, not on the ground.

A quick word with the captain of the guard, saying she needed to speak with the Exalt urgently, and he’d waved her past the perimeter of the castle on her pegasus with nought but a faint mutter. He probably thought she was dramatising the message to get to Chrom quicker, and in a way she was. Her well-known hapless crush had helped her out tonight, though she didn’t intend to deliver a message, but a confrontation. Knocking on the normal door wouldn’t be dramatic enough.

Once past the checkpoint, she dug her heels into the pegasus’ sides, lifting its reins as it beat its powerful wings, lifting into the sky. She knew where Chrom’s room was from her old castle patrol duty briefings, and that being up near the top of the castle, that it had a balcony.

It took a scant minute to reach the Exalt’s lofty perch, and one careful step to dismount, setting the knight mere inches from Chrom’s own quarters. Signalling for her mount to wait atop one of the nearby roofs, she stepped toward the wrought iron doors. Through the inset glass, she could see drawn curtains. Understandable, she supposed. It’s not as if he was expecting love-stricken knights to come up and demand the details of his personal life…

She shook her head, chasing away her doubts. No. She needed to talk to him. As little of her business as it was, she swore an oath to his service, and could not ignore such strange occurrences, lest he be in danger. Placing her ear close to the pane of the window, she raised a shaking hand, fist balled, ready to rap on the surface of the glass…

“AAAHN!”

A loud, lascivious moan from the other side of the door shook her nerves, sending her scrambling back from the glass. Was that…? No, it couldn’t be. But if it was…

She edged back towards the door. On closer inspection, there was a small cleft in the curtains through which a sliver of the room was visible. Settling onto her knees, she peered up into the room, at first seeing nought but the opposite wall, lit by dim lamplight. A moment later, the two people that had occupied her thoughts so much that day swung into view, and with her gauntlets pressed over her mouth in disbelief, Cordelia found herself unable to look away.

Even from the scant flashes of sweat-sheened skin Cordelia was afforded from her peeping hole, each moment was visceral. Chrom and Robin were locked in a desperate, panting embrace, baby-soft skin writhing against rock-hard muscle as limbs intertwined, gasps and moans piercing the air in the brief moments where they surfaced from their ravenous kissing to breathe. Cordelia found her own breath hastening as she watched, caught somewhere between fascination and horror.

Back and forth they rolled atop the bed, constantly changing position as they appeared to almost wrestle, wringing the pleasure out of each other as if their lives depended on it. When they shifted from her view, her mind rushed to fill in the blanks, drawing from every softcore bodice-ripper novel she’d ever read and coming up completely short as they rolled back into view, bowling her over with fresh displays of unbridled passion.

Staring at the pair’s frenzied lovemaking, the heartache emerged once more even through the frantic hammering beat it had been thrown into by the scene, quashing all but the barest twinge of arousal from Chrom’s nakedness. As much as it pained her, the conciliatory logic she repeated over and over to herself returned once again.

He was never going to pick her.

And, looking at who he had chosen, how could anyone blame him? At that moment, Chrom knelt behind his wife-to-be, fingers sinking slightly into the softness of her hips as he railed her from behind, Robin’s arms near-buckling, her enormous chest shaking beneath her with every slam of his hips into her rippling rump. Her expression was ecstatic, thick lips in a perfect O, shuddering as she came through his relentless thrusting.

Cordelia’s arms instinctively went to cover her own chest. Being so naturally gifted, it was a major point of embarrassment that no matter how hard she trained, nothing could change her deficiency in the chest department. Few knew the truth of her one real shame, that the modest mounds on her sculpted breastplate rang hollow, and the few that did had given her nothing but consolation. But the shame had never seemed more crushing than when compared to Robin’s sudden voluminous excess of boob. She just wasn’t good enough.

At that point, she was about ready to slink away and spend the night at a tavern drowning her sorrows, but as her gaze shifted from the bed, unable to look any longer, she caught a faint flash of colour. On the opposite side of the room, the main door sat slightly ajar, in view of the bed, and in the lamplight, Cordelia’s eagle eye caught a glint of a familiar pale-pink tone...

Momentarily fascinated, she peered closer and caught a wisp of pale brown hair. A moment longer, and there was no doubt. It was Sumia! And she was spying on- Well, it might not be spying, after all, look at the situation she was in now, it had just kind of happened…

Another set of screams and bellows pierced the air from the happy couple, making Cordelia cringe. This whole attempt had been a mess. She had an even larger bundle of tangled emotions to work through now than before and oh gods was Sumia looking at her?!

In that terrible stretched-out moment where the two spectators’ eyes met, Cordelia suddenly thought that perhaps having bright red hair was not a great asset when sneaking. Instantly, the two ran for the hills, Cordelia practically leaping from the balcony as she signalled her pegasus, while Sumia sprinted away down the halls of the palace, moving as fast as she could manage without tripping, which she then did anyway.

Looking up from his task, Chrom frowned slightly at the slight scuffling sounds of the departing voyeurs.

“Did you hear something?” He asked between breaths, glancing with vague curiosity between the peeper’s hiding spots.

A slender, manicured hand snaking up to yank him back down was the only response he got, and he swiftly remembered there were far more enjoyable things to attend to.

+++

Having panicked, the two knights completely forgot that they shared a bunk, and that running back to the barracks to hide in bed and pretend nothing happened was not a good course of action.

Cordelia, stumbling into their little corner of the barracks after hastily stabling her pegasus, found Sumia sitting on the side of her bunk, still in her armour and staring at the floor. A book sat on the bed next to her, as if she’d given up on trying to distract herself. The junior knight looked up as the door swung open, and their eyes locked again. The tension in the air was thick enough to block a blade. They both knew, but neither wanted to say it.

After an excruciating moment of stillness, Sumia looked away, a fiery blush tinting her cheeks. In a small voice, playing with her hands as she spoke, she tried to break the mood.

“I was only there to ask if everything was okay...” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean-”

“I didn’t either.” Cordelia blurted out. “I just… I was worried too.”

The silence settled again as they realised that their little exchange had barely helped.

“...And we’re still worried, right?” Sumia tried again.

“...Yes.”

“So what do we do?”

Cordelia sighed, the depth and dramatism quite extreme even by her standards. She felt like she’d earned it this time.

“I don’t know. They seem… Happy?” Both of them cringed in unison at the allusion. “But it still doesn’t seem right.” Sumia nodded, still avoiding eye contact. Then all of a sudden, she looked pensive.

“Before we saw them this morning… Didn’t Robin say something about Tharja? Could she…?”

Cordelia’s eyes widened. The pieces all fit together. The subject of Tharja’s infatuation was even more obvious to onlookers than her own was, and the strange curses that inevitably surrounded her even more so. If she was involved, there was no doubt she was the root of all this.

“You’re right. We should pay her a visit.” Cordelia held out a hand to her friend, smiling drily as Sumia reached out in turn, bearing her own embarrassed grin.

“Sure. And this time we’ll knock!”

+++

The castle was beginning to quieten down for the night, making it easy to reach Tharja’s room unbothered. Not that there was anything to hide, of course, just two loyal knights concerned for their liege.

Approaching the study in the seldom-trodden corner of the castle that the dark mage had made her own, the two began to feel uneasy. What if Tharja cursed them both for interfering? What if she cursed them both just for bothering her?

Standing at the door, Cordelia stared ahead. The plain wooden portal seemed to radiate unnatural malice. She swallowed audibly.

“W-well… Here we are...” Sumia attempted to lift the mood. “Guess we should… Knock.”

Cordelia nodded. Steeling herself, she reached out, gauntleted knuckle poised to rap on the door, only for it to be wrenched away from under her. The door swung inward, Tharja herself emerging from the gloom, pinching the bridge of her nose and muttering in what seemed to be frustration.

Immediately, the pair’s predictions were verified. Her figure was much the same as Robin’s, sculpted into an impossible feminine ideal. Tharja had been quite gifted in the relevant departments before, making Cordelia quite jealous on occasion, but this was on another level entirely.

As Tharja swept past the two of them, stomping away on platform heels as the door swung to behind her, the two women could only stare after her, entranced by the wiggle of her barely-covered butt until she was out of eyeshot. It seemed she’d been too wrapped up in her own thoughts to even acknowledge them.

Sumia and Cordelia shared a glance, each seeking guidance from the other. As one, they turned to the ajar door from which Tharja had emerged. The dark and foreboding sanctum called to them, promising answers to all their questions. It was, of course, a terrible idea to enter. They could be flayed, mummified, turned into all variety of amphibians.

But the brave pegasus knights of the Shepherds swallowed their fear, squeezed their eyes shut and scurried into the room, squeaking in fear as they went.

The first thing to note upon entering the room was the unique aroma. Before the two opened their eyes, the strangely mixed scent had filled their airways in a cloying, all-consuming way. It was partly like medicine, but when that faded, a subtle sweetness took its place, and finally a primal, animalistic smell of sweat. Had the girls been more experienced, they might have ascribed it to sex.

But as they opened their eyes, the cause became apparent. As was visible by the state of her desk and the surrounding surfaces, Tharja had been toying with a set of alchemical tubes, pipes and vials, poring over thick, wordy tomes in the gloom as she struggled to make-

“Vulneraries?”

Sure as day, amongst all the bizarre and terrifying concoctions Tharja could be making in her little corner of the castle, she appeared to be working with standard combat medicines. Or at least, she was using the bottles.

Not knowing how to make head or tail of the rest of the esoterically-stocked room, the two girls peered closer. Sitting centrally on the desk was a flask of pink liquid, a few shades from the familiar dark red of a vulnerary, and at this distance, smelling much the same.

“What do you think she’s doing?” Sumia whispered, eyes flicking over the array of bewildering glasses, tools and arcane equipment.

“Well, it has to be related to what’s happening to Chrom, Robin and her...” Cordelia replied, just as lost. She knew a lot about a great many things, but magic and alchemy weren’t among them. But it was odd… A quick whiff of the medicine bottles confirmed that they were indeed vulneraries, bitter smell and all. Some were empty, dry as if waiting to be filled. “But why would she be making something so mundane?”

“You’re right, the castle must go through dozens of those a day just from our training...” Sumia mumbled, leaning forward to glance around the desk. “I had one just yesterday.”

“It doesn’t make any-” Cordelia froze mid-sentence. Suddenly it made perfect sense. If the goal was to spread the change, then what better way than by an inconspicuous, everyday commodity? A magic potion that did far more than what it advertised...

“Cordelia?” Sumia prodded her friend.

“It’s in the potion… The change is in the potion, Sumia!” Cordelia turned to her, triumphant yet hushed. “We need to take this to… Anyone, really. Miriel maybe? She could tell us if it’s harmful-”

Sumia watched, mildly dumbstruck as her friend reached out to seize the bottlenecked flask of pink liquid, holding it carefully to her chest. She watched the redhead look down, making sure it was safely cradled in her hands, and begin to look back to confirm their departure, only for a strange look to overcome her. Her motion ground to a halt, eyes staring blankly ahead.

“...Cordelia?”

The girl could barely hear her. Dimly in the back of her brain, she thought it might not have been wise to raise the glass so close to her face. The scent of the room had become overpowering, and instantly began to sink into her mind. Unbidden, images of Chrom and Robin flashed up from her memory, their perfect bodies and faces of ecstasy in the midst of their carnal act. Instinctively, she squeezed her thighs together, pressing the flask between the empty bulges of her breastplate. What if… What if she drank it? Would she look like Robin and Tharja? Soft skin, lush features and tits for days? Would she finally have the confidence in her body that she’d longed for for her whole life?

Would she have a chance with Chrom then?

“Cordelia!” Sumia’s voice shook her from her haze, but she was not yet free of its effects.

“Sumia, I...” She trailed off again, looking up to her concerned friend’s face and back to the enticing pink potion. “Would it be so bad if I...” Sumia’s eyes bulged as she slowly began to raise the potion to her lips.

“Cordelia, no!” Sumia’s arms shot out to hold her friend’s errant hands in place. “Calm down! We have no idea what it’ll do! And besides, we just want to find out what’s happening, not let it happen all over again!” She locked eyes with her friend, brown eyes shining with sincerity and concern.

Cordelia held her gaze and took a shaky breath. She was right, of course. Such thoughts were entirely selfish and illogical. The fact she had been so tempted reflected poorly on her own character, yet another example of her need to improve herself.

“Yes, I’m so sorry. Forgive me, please...” Sumia gave her a warm smile..

“Don’t worry. Let’s just get out of here.” Threading her fingers through Cordelia’s, she took the flask in hand, meeting no resistance. Cordelia nodded demurely and turned towards the door, partly lost in introspection. Sumia looked down at the glass for a moment and held it at arm’s length before taking a step.

Of course, being who she was, that step was tragically misguided.

Breaking Cordelia from her inner world yet again came the astonishingly regular sound of Sumia’s fall. Spinning around, she was far too late to catch her friend, who plummeted to the floor, eyes squeezed shut, braced for impact, and flask still in hand.

As she hit the floor, the liquid burst upwards, flying a good two feet in the air and splashing down all around them. Some pattered harmlessly to the floor, but much went elsewhere, thoroughly wetting the front of Cordelia’s exposed legs and spraying Sumia all the way from face to back. Everywhere it touched skin, the area tingled, and as the two stood (or lay) in shock, it began to grow stronger. Frozen in shock and fear, Cordelia found herself paralyzed as the tingles seeped deep into her flesh, dancing along her bones as they spread further up her body.

As her legs began to sway under her like young trees in a gale, she heard a final utterance from Sumia, shaken by the very same invasive sensation as her, and soon to be overtaken. The critically clumsy girl pried her eyes open to look up at her fellow comrade in misfortune, barely enduring the electric delight playing across her upper body, and let out a single, dejected syllable.

“Oops...”

+++

Cordelia could barely focus on her friend, or even find the strength of mind to blame her for anything. She tried to wipe away the cursed liquid, but every brush of her gauntleted hands across the slick skin of her legs sent the sensation into overdrive, paroxysms of pleasure exploding in all directions.

The shockwaves now wracking her legs were the final straw for her balance, and she found herself tipping forwards to the floor, landing on her hands and knees right next to Sumia, who, at a glimpse, had her arms wrapped around her chest, shivering and whimpering.

For a half-second, Cordelia cursed Tharja’s experiments, her trickery and everything she stood for, only for it to melt as the magical tingling reached its destination, throwing her mental faculties back into disarray.

The pleasant pinprick-sharp sensations had been steadily spreading up her legs from the point of contact with the liquid, and now they had reached her pelvis. From there, it was a short leap to the very core of her womanhood, the contact releasing a spike of pleasure that forced the usually dignified knight to let out a squeaky little yelp.

From there, the all-encompassing tingles subsided, replaced by a warm, steady pulsing over the entire lower half of her body. The heat throbbed strongest in her compromised core, and despite it all, the telltale symptoms of arousal started to form in her nethers. As the first long pulse faded, granting her some respite, Cordelia’s addled mind registered that her boots felt a little tight. Sure enough, an inquisitive hand reaching downwards found the hem snug against her skin… But it didn’t stop there.

As the next pulse of heat began to build over her body, it seemed to trip the boundary of her gauntlet, spreading over her fingertips like water. Instinctively, she pulled it away, but by that time it was too late. The segmented metal of the gauntlet’s fingers had pulled back, revealing her own fingers, each now capped with a delicate, ruby-red fingernail. As she sat in shock, the wave across her body broke, and she realised what was happening. Her lower body; ass, thigh, calf; was swelling in its restraints, filling out with soft new flesh. Cordelia felt the baby-softness of her inner thigh brush against its pair on the other side, and it just felt so good… No, no! She was reaching the point of no return, and had to stop it…

She attempted to right herself, pushing back to sit on her haunches, only for the excess of new mass on her butt, barely constrained by her receding skirt, to clap against her calves in a way that she’d never have thought could feel so right… No, not again! It was overtaking her…

“S-Sumia…!” The blooming knight whimpered, growing thicker by the second and distressed about how much she liked it. “Help...”

But Sumia was fighting her own battles. Now rolled over onto her back, the potion that had sprayed all down her front now seemed to have wormed its way past her armour, and was now erupting from within. Her plain, sturdy breastplate had crept down her chest, creating an opening from which surged reams of new breast. From the milky valley of cleavage Cordelia could see, each was the size of her head and showed no sign of slowing down. Sumia herself seemed tormented by their continued growth, moaning from the floor, back arched as she pressed the swollen orbs to the ceiling, no doubt fighting her own rolling waves of blissful heat. Not only that, but indeed, made slick by the sheen of magical fluid, the lips from which emerged her stream of pleasured noises seemed to swell in time with the pulsing growth of her tits, the surrounding facial features even growing softer, more feminine.

Cordelia watched as Sumia was gifted everything she’d so selfishly wanted from the potion. A mixture of karmic justice and supreme disappointment swirled in her heart, only to be wiped away by the next wave of swelling heat, filling her mind with an ever-heightening plateau of pleasure in its place. Shivering in the aftershocks, she looked down at her own progress. Her hips creaked beneath her as they slowly widened, giving proportion to the ludicrous thickness that her legs now held, both continuing to grow in unnaturally perfect tandem.

Hope seemed to leak from her as she slumped, submitting to the final wave that would surely push her over the edge into an inevitable orgasm, leaving her freakish and unbalanced, all effort in the name of her love for nought. Slumping own, her eyes then fell upon the discarded bottle, dropped by Sumia as her changes started. It lay on its side, the bulb at the base of its length containing a scant amount of the pink potion.

Time seemed to slow as Cordelia contemplated her actions. Proactivity and fortune had led her here, thinking of others, of course, her prime concern. But all had gone awry, and they found themselves victim to the same affliction they sought to uncover. Now it seemed there was no turning back… So why not rule it?

Impulsively, Cordelia snatched up the glass and raised it to her lips, the bittersweet liquid slipping into her mouth just as the final pulse of transformative warmth swept through her. The magic in the liquid seemed to resonate, blooming in her mouth as the pleasure dam broke under the endless waves of heat, rocking her body with shakes as she moaned long and loud in the dark study, sweeping away consciousness as peaceful oblivion took her.

+++

“Cordelia, wake up… Cordelia…!”

The gentle urgency of Sumia’s voice roused Cordelia from slumber, rising unknowingly through the fog of sleep to a brave new world. Her eyes, set with new, longer eyelashes, fluttered open, and found the bottom half of her vision encompassed entirely by Sumia’s breast.

Atop the gargantuan mammaries was Sumia, looking slightly relieved, but still beset by trouble. In either case, she looked a whole new woman. Her lips were plump and bounteous, eclipsing Robin and Tharja by a good margin, facial features honed to the apex of feminine beauty, displaying her emotions with delicate, heart-rending poise. And all that was ignoring her brand new, most... Eye-catching feature.

As Cordelia sat up, she began to understand the sheer scope of Sumia’s new bosom, so huge that they appeared to slow her down as she straightened up. Her breastplate had receded yet further, now resembling a filigree-decorated armoured bustier, barely reaching halfway to the top of her colossal tits, showing so much pale, wobbling flesh that it defied reason that she showed no nipple whatsoever. It seemed that there had simply not been enough metal to cover it all, the magic reaching its limits as it stretched the breastplate to cover the bottom half of the two prize pumpkin-sized melons.

“Sumia...” Cordelia’s eyes roamed her friend’s new body incredulously, drawing out a slightly sad smile from her friend.

“I know, kind of ridiculous, right?”

“I...” Cordelia closed her eyes, shaking her head briefly. “What… What about…?”

“I think you got the other end of the stick...” Sumia looked up, groping at the top of a dresser for a moment before returning with a small, seldom-used hand mirror. She held it out, and with slight trepidation, Cordelia took it. Sitting up, she looked upon her new face, and had to fight back an attack of narcissism. She’d been pretty before, of course, some might even say beautiful. But now, she was stunning. Much the same as Sumia, she was refined in every way, still unmistakably herself but improved, though in a different style. Her skin was flawless, cheekbones delicate, thin lips possessing the tiniest of pouts. She looked every part the maiden to Sumia’s matron.

That is, until she looked down. Then it became much more obvious why Sumia’s endowments were so far ahead of Robin and Tharja. Her own breastplate was… Absolutely unchanged. From within, she could feel the empty concaves of the sculpted mounds against her girlish buds. But a few inches below that, itt ceased completely. Her womanly waist bloomed out into hips the likes of which she’d only seen on pagan fertility idols, rocking seductively even as she shifted in place on the floor, the friction there revealing that not only was her butt in a similarly sizable state, but that her skirt remained unchanged, looking more like a belt on her current proportions. Running a hand down the side of her torso, it was clear her hips managed even to stand wider than her shoulders. Continuing down, where her legs had once been slim, some might even say scrawny, her thighs now exceeded the width of her waist, overflowing with squeezable, cushiony flesh. By the swell under her riding boots, it seemed that her calves suffered the same fate, and further down still, their modest block heels had erupted into towering spikes.

It was miraculous. Unbelievable. But bizarrely, she didn’t feel too disturbed. And judging by the small, conciliatory smile currently stretched over Sumia’s new lips, she likely felt the same. Was it the magic? Was the fact she was capable of wondering if it was the magic proof that it wasn’t the magic? Well, despite the injustice of their… Imbalance, she had to admit that they both looked pretty good…

“I...” The reborn redhead started, only to quickly glance to the doorway. The sound of rapid approach filtered through the ajar door, snippets of conversation accompanied by the sharp tapping of two pairs of heels.

“...get back as soon as possible, Chrom seemed about to burst!” Robin’s voice became distinguishable as she drew closer.

“Fine...” Came Tharja’s tired drone. “You understand this better, though, my love. It’s the stabilisation. An incomplete dose or non-ingested contact can cause... Imbalances.”

Sumia and Cordelia shared a look, a mix of terror and resignation on their faces. Their gazes snapped back to the door as it swung inward, silhouetting the two senior bimbos in the light of the corridor’s lamps. Robin, noticeably dishevelled and significantly taller than her companion, took in the room, down to the mismatched pair on the floor, the pooling of the potion-in-progress among the tiles of the floor, and the empty bottle lying on the floor amongst it all.

Her expression was merely one of surprise, and remained as such for the duration of the awkward stare. Tharja’s started much the same, only to quickly decay, a thunderous exasperation tainting her magically-beautified face.

“...Like them?” Robin smiled awkwardly, picking up the situation fairly quick. Tharja nearly stabbed herself with her nails as she went to pinch the bridge of her nose, infuriated beyond measure.

“Yes. Like them.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Tharja's help, Lissa begins the slow process of helping her best friend Maribelle throw off her stuffy preconceptions about sex over their biweekly tea parties.

"...I still cannot believe you approve of this slatterndom, Lissa."

Lady Maribelle, daughter of the Duke of Themis, peered over the rim of her teacup at the new form of her oldest friend, scrutinising the bimbofied princess warily.

It had been barely a day since the first round of 'incidents', and despite the baffled acceptance of their rulers and protectors' new bodies from much of the castle staff, Lissa knew from the moment that she checked her appointments the following morning that Maribelle would be an uphill battle.

In an effort to create a greater sense of normalcy, the princess had put on an older dress. She had to make several adjustments for her new figure, of course, and no amount of frilly petticoats could hide the swell of her bust or hips, but it covered her near completely from the neck down. If she were honest, Lissa found it painfully stuffy and confining. After Maribelle left she had half a mind to take a walk around the castle completely topless, but for now at least the floor-length dress undercarriage stopped her friend from seeing her compulsively spreading her legs every minute or so.

For now, they sat in their special tea room, a guard standing outside while the two chatted and gossipped over a pot of the finest tea available. Or, at least they usually would. Maribelle, ever the prude, had been less than enthused at the sight of Lissa's new body, and the confirmation that Chrom and Robin were much the same had soured her mood yet further.

Tired of being speared by the daggers her friend was staring at her, Lissa sighed.

"Come on, Mar! It's just a little magic, not like I'm any different. And besides, I feel great!"

"Really?" Maribelle raised her nose slightly, setting her teacup down, her delicately curled hair almost bristling. "Then why has Chrom suddenly begun such intimate and legislative fraternisation with his trusted tactician after such a long period of staunch professionalism?"

"Come on, Mar, they've been wandering in on each other in the bath for months. Did you really think there was nothing going on?" Despite her unflappably cheery facade, Lissa squirmed beneath the table. Her wardrobe refit had left her little time for self-pleasure that morning, and her honeypot was getting increasingly needy, making her squirm under the concealing folds of her dress.

"Perhaps." Maribelle sighed, her exasperation painfully obvious. "But I must say I expected more decorum from all of you. Particularly after the tuition I gave Robin. Such wanton, shameless bodies are unbecoming of a noble!"

"I don't know. It's actually given me a confidence boost." Lissa shrugged, taking a sip from her own cup. "I feel more mature, more like a real lady, you know? And it does help that my brand finally came out..."

It was true, but Lissa knew it was just what her friend wanted to hear.

"Really? Well..." Maribelle glanced away, tossing her pristine blonde ringlets dramatically. "I suppose... I cannot begrudge you for your choice. I know how much receiving your brand must mean to you. Where is it, if I may ask?"

"It's… Um-" Right above my crotch, Lissa wanted to say. But she held her tongue: "...On my stomach."

"I see. I shan't intrude further then. Nevertheless, if you finally wish to be a 'real lady' I am more than happy to help. I shall prepare some materials and exercises for our next chat." Maribelle took up her teacup once again and gracefully drained the remaining tea. "This is a most interesting brew. I don't believe we've had it before?"

"Is it?" Lissa sipped again. "It tastes like our regular citrus blend to me."

"Oh, Lissa, I would expect as much. That said, I rather enjoy it. It is sweet, but pleasantly aromatic. Do see if you can find some more for later this week, won't you?"

"Uh, sure..." Lissa blinked. This was slightly odd. She polished off the rest of her own cuo while Maribelle reached for her parasol. Straightening her coat, she stood, smoothing out the creases in her plain, modest clothes.

"I should be going now, however. A pleasure as always, Lissa..." Maribelle stepped forward, meeting the princess in a friendly embrace. Their chests made contact at a considerably further proximity than usual, making the lower-ranking lady grimace briefly over Lissa's shoulder as her meager mounds were smothered by Lissa's new melons.

She broke away smiling and walked to the door, followed by Lissa. Stepping outside with a wave, she looked around.

"Where is that guard? It seems peace has made security lax. I shall have to speak with Chrom about this..."

Lissa watched Maribelle go, grumbling indignantly to herself down the corridor. As she strode out of sight, Lissa let out a long, exasperated breath. She loved Maribelle, but she was just too much sometimes.

Standing in the doorway, she began to unbutton the top of her dress, contemplating whether to head to her room or see if she could try to make herself cum once or twice in the tea room before her next appointment. A few buttons down, she caught a shadow of movement out of the corner of her eye, and turned to look, barely slowing.

Jiggling down the hall towards her was none other than Tharja. Looking at the dark femme fatale, one could see she'd ditched the torn bodystocking she'd been wearing for their intimate little tryst the other day and settled on a set of transparent satin sleeves and thighsocks instead, with an overflowing black strapless bra and trusty gilded tabard barely preserving her modesty as she sashayed down the corridor, whisper-light gossaner cloak and curtain of silky raven hair flowing behind. As she closed in, Lissa noticed a wet glob of whiteness at the corner of her plump, shining lips, and immediately had an idea where the guard had gone.

"Princess." She spoke curtly as she stopped, looking down at Lissa from atop towering golden heels.

"Tharja." Lissa smiled back as she finished freeing her tits to the open air, letting them bounce out with a contented sigh. "Did you want to talk about something?"

Utterly unfazed, the curvy curse-caster spoke bluntly.

"Did she drink the tea? Did she like it?" Lissa blinked at that.

"Yes and… Yes? Was that you?"

An evil smirk crossed Tharja's lips as she reached into her cleavage and pulled out a small vial. The liquid within was pink, filled the vial halfway, and seemed to fizz with a familiar energy.

"Let's just say Maribelle won't be criticising your fashion choices for much longer."

Lissa was slightly shocked at first. How had she even managed to slip that into their tea? But things were easier with Tharja when you didn't question her methods. She was a strange sort for sure, but despite the gloom she wilfully projected, she was always helping out in her own way.

"Now, let's get you out of that awful dress. You look like a dissatisfied housewife." Tharja stepped past the princess, pulling her into the tea room, already shedding what little clothing she wore. "And besides, you need to work on your tongue game. We'll start with a demonstration..."

Lissa's core clenched in anticipation as she was swept away in Tharja's lustful wake. Life was so much more fun as a bimbo…

+++

"Mmm, exquisite. This blend grows on me more and more. Did you find out what it was called?"

A few days later, Maribelle and Lissa sat in their positions again in the tearoom, piping hot teapot between them. Lissa had strayed a little bolder with her dress that day at Tharja's encouragement, and had sprung for a dress showing a little cleavage and a shorter hem. Still far too prudish for her liking, but better than the last one.

Maribelle wasn't entirely unchanged either. After their vigorous instructive 69-ing session the previous day, Tharja had explained the potion. A test, to see if the enhancement process could be delivered slowly, in a controlled manner. Having seen Sumia and Cordelia moping around the castle all lopsided after their run-ins with the first prototype, Lissa had been worried, but Maribelle looked fine. More than fine, even. Great!

The tea's magic was slow indeed, as the changes would have been imperceptible to anyone who didn't know Maribelle to the extent Lissa did. Her chest seemed marginally larger, her shirt standing slightly more taut than before, her thighs starting to fill out her riding slacks to a similarly minor extent. She also wore a dash more makeup, her cheeks a little more rouged, eyes delicately shadowed. Most surprising of all was that she hadn't noticed a thing, other than that she simply felt quite healthy.

"...Well, the cooks found more of it but it was in an unmarked tin." The princess lied. "Let's make it count, huh?"

"Indeed." Maribelle smiled, drinking deeply in spite of her manners, unknowingly absorbing another dose of Tharja's newest concoction. "It shall be a shame when it is gone. Regardless, how goes life around the castle?"

"Oh, it's wonderful! Chrom said they're going to start planning the wedding soon! I can't wait!"

"A royal wedding is no small event, true." Maribelle nodded sagely. "Particularly one featuring a pair of such stunningly glamourous strumpets..."

Her tone was still sharp, but to Lissa's expert ear, it appeared more playful than before. Had her opinion changed? Was that the potion? Her own change had been an unforgettably intense experience, but the princess found herself deriving a deviant satisfaction from seeing it take place so slowly before her own eyes.

They chatted a while longer, made plans and said their goodbyes. After her friend's departure, Lissa checked the pot. It was empty, and she herself had only had half a cup, Tharja having let her know that she wouldn't benefit from the potion as Maribelle would. The thought of her dear childhood friend showing up to their next meeting with a fresh outlook and even fresher figure sent tingles through her abdomen. Just a few more days…

+++

"Are you sure you're not tired, Mar?"

"Surprisingly no, Lissa. Despite my negligence in taking proper time to sleep of late, I feel inexplicably invigorated!"

The changes were bolder this time. Maeibelle had shot past the average breast size in the halidom in but a few short days, and with an increasingly plush, pear-shaped figure from her steadily expanding thighs, she was well on her way to bimbodom. Her coiled, golden hair seemed thicker and more lustrous, her face starting to approach a doll-like porcelain ideal, with makeup so immaculate that Lissa couldn't tell whether she had actually become more pale or not.

"Mind if I ask… What exactly were you doing up so late then?" Lissa probed, already having a pretty good idea. The idea spurred her fingers to brush subtly against the covered sensitive skin of her branded groin.

"Masturb- AHEM!" Maribelle caught herself before the truth slipped out. "...Mastering the arts, I should say. Brady has been coming along wonderfully in his string lessons and I thought it prudent to sharpen my own skills."

"Right… Well, I'm glad you're happy. Anything… Interesting happened to you lately?"

"What would you mean by that, Lissa? In any case, I cannot think of anything. If anything, life around the manor has been rather peaceful of late. I've frankly had more time to myself than I know what to do with!"

Lissa settled back into her chair, nodding and meandering through the conversation as it came. She hadn't noticed. Was that part of the potion's effects as well? It sure was slow, but the effects were obvious.

"If you're not busy, care to stay a little longer this time, then? The kitchen staff found a whole tin of this stuff the other day..."

"Oh, Lissa. What do you take me for, a glutton?" Maribelle's eyes flashed briefly before she broke into a smirk. "A stronger brew this time, if you will. There's an elegance to the taste that I haven't quite been able to grasp yet..."

The fizzling pink vial Lissa held tucked between her breasts seemed to grow warmer as Lissa ventured off to 'find' the new tin of the mysterious tea, thrumming against her hammering heart. A storm of emotions raged within her. One half of her mind knew she was essentially drugging her friend and wrestled with morality. It was wrong, but yet… Wouldn't she be happier after the fact? Such an uptight, stuffy girl would surely find some liberation in being a bimbo, right?

The other half was busy shlicking like crazy to a hundred fantasies of the two of them in bed together, kissing and rubbing and grinding like no tomorrow. They were best of friends, after all, but Lissa wanted to be so much more. Maribelle's slowly developing figure was like oil on the fire of her libido, and it showed no sign of abating.

After several breaks on her way to and back from the storeroom to slip a hand into the sopping mess between her legs, Lissa returned with a fresh pot of tea, already infused with a double dose of Tharja's nefarious magic. That hadn't been part of her instructions, but Lissa had done it anyway. She couldn't wait. Her BFF would soon be her BBFWB, and the prospect had her dripping.

+++

"You know, Lissa, this morning my father said he thought I'd put on weight! Can you believe it? Honestly, the gall of that man..."

As the two approached their seats from the entrance to the tearoom, Lissa would have had to contain a chuckle if she hadn't been completely enthralled with ogling Maribelle's new body. That double dose had sure done the trick…

Maribelle was now all but completely transformed. Her hair had grown out massively, finely curated golden ringlets trailing down her back like a heavy cloak, even as she casually flicked them about with nary a thought. Her figure bulged obscenely, the magnitude of her breast forcing her to leave no less than two buttons on her chemise undone, producing a long, tight valley of creamy white cleavage. Her slacks were pulled skintight, almost creaking when she moved, struggling to contain the mass of soft, plush thighmeat that rippled within its constraints when she walked.

The princess wasn't exactly subtle in her staring, earning a raised eyebrow from Maribelle herself as she settled into her seat.

"Is something wrong, my dear?" She asked, drawing the words out in an almost seductive way.

Lissa looked up at her companion's face and had to fight the urge to nip at the edge of her lip in appreciation. Maribelle's visage was a mastercrafted portrait of perfection. Pale, powdered skin with not a single blemish to speak of framed her refined features. Sparkling, smoke-rimmed eyes and smirking ruby lips scrutinised Lissa's expression of barely-restrained lust with quaint amusement.

"Uhh…" Lissa grasped for words. "Well… I guess maybe you have? A little?"

"Only in all the right places, my dear!" Maribelle exclaimed, touching her exquisitely manicured fingertips to her clavicle in a gesture of mock-offense.

"I won't argue with that..." Lissa drooled as she sat down in turn. "But anyway, you look good!"

"Of course I do, Lissa dearest. It is a noble lady's duty to always look her best. Something you have no trouble with, of course..."

Maribelle's eyes flicked up and down Lissa's own voluptuous form with much the same air of thinly veiled desire. It helped that Lissa at this point had abandoned all pretenses and wore the sluttiest royal dress she had, exposing acres of bare breast, the whole of her back, and the entire length of her lower body from the top of her brand down to the tips of her snugly stockinged, stripper-heel-clad toes.

The princess giggled at the compliment, suppressing an erotic shiver. She wanted to appear a proper lady after all…

"Thanks, Mar. But didn't you say it was… Uh… Slatternly? Slatternly to dress like this? Whatever that means..."

"Perhaps in formal company, but we are far from that, correct?" Maribelle winked across the table. "Regardless, I believe the times are changing. Reform happens from the top down after all, and given the royal couple's popularity with the common folk, this lascivious trend they have started may very well be here to stay." She smirked. "And a noble lady purporting any connection with her citizenry does her best to follow the times..."

"Definitely." Lissa grinned back. Having her best friend be at the very worst a tease and at best a turboslut was going to be so much fun in the future. "Tea?" She asked.

"Oh, pish posh, Lissa darling. Tea is positively antiquated in this new society of our Exalt's ambition." Maribelle scoffed. Lissa froze, fixing her friend with a perplexed look. That was… Completely unlike Maribelle. Turning down tea? On a tea date?

"Whaddya mean, antiquated?" She ventured. Oh gods, had Tharja’s potion knocked something loose in her head?! What if she was-

“As delectable as that little mystery blend of yours is, I’ve recently been dabbling in something new...” Maribelle’s eyes glinted, and she opened her mouth to continue. “I’ve-”

There was a timid knocking at the door, cutting the curvaceous courtwoman off mid-sentence. Nonetheless, she smiled, as if expecting such an interruption.

“That should be him now.” She adjusted herself in her seat, adopting a straight-backed pose, one exquisitely thick leg folded over the other, hand folded in her lap. She raised her voice: “Come in!”

The door clicked as the handle turned, and a tall young man stepped into the room. He was dressed in an immaculate formal suit and shiny black shoes, his hair swept back neatly and face fairly rugged and attractive. With all this, one would assume he would be quite confident, but to Lissa the way he moved and the stiffness of his features suggested a somewhat uncomfortable man. Part of that would be part and parcel with working for Maribelle, but still.

Lissa glanced back and forth between Maribelle and her apparent servant, watching as her bellow highborn lady beckoned him over. With rigid strides, he crossed the room to stand by his mistress, perhaps a little closer than one might consider comfortable. His arms seemed bolted to his sides as he looked down at his Lady, her seated form perfectly eye-level with his waist, sparing nary a thought for Lissa. Maribelle met his gaze with relaxed control. She glanced back to Lissa, raising a hand to rest on her servant’s waistband.

“As I was saying, Lissa...” She intoned to her companion. “I’ve recently acquired a rather distinct taste...” She tugged downward, her servant closing his eyes as his cock sprang out into the open air, already mostly hard, veiny and accompanied by a pair of particularly heavy balls.

“...For semen.” Maribelle finished, grasping her servant’s dick with one hand, still maintaining perfect posture and composure. Her eyes on Lissa, she began to stroke, letting him fully harden in her hand as she continued to speak to her stunned tea-mate.

“Naturally, I’ve been very selective.” She flicked her hair over the opposite shoulder as she slowly picked up the pace with her visiting bondsman. “A meagre volume simply wouldn’t do, after all, and I keep my suppliers on strict diets to maintain quality of taste and texture.”

Now fully hard and throbbing, she dropped her hand away and moved her fingertips to the underside of his balls, as if gently weighing his load. “After finding appropriate scheduling for my shots, it’s become quite the delicious little enterprise.”

With a single flirtatious glance back at Lissa, she turned her head and touched her tongue to the tip of her servile lover’s head, making him visibly shiver. She traced small, wet circles around his slit, agonisingly slow and light, savouring the motion to such a degree that even the dumbstruck Lissa licked her lips.

Eventually, Maribelle relented, tilting forward to seal her lips around his cockhead, sucking harshly enough to force an involuntary groan out of her captive bull. She began to bob gently, sliding up and down, tongue thrashing about with dexterity enough to have him wobble slightly, the pleasure making him weak at the knees.

With less than half a minute of ministrations, the man’s hands were balling into fists at his sides. Maribelle bobbed once more in place and slid down, down, down, her rouged lips sealing around the very base of his not insubstantial length. Then, she began to drag up, sliding at a glacial place up and off his cock, lashing him with every ounce of stimulation her tongue could provide.

This appeared to be too much for him, as he moaned aloud, his hips shaking as he convulsed in her mouth. Maribelle’s eyes fluttered shut as she savoured the flavour of the hot, thick ropes shooting into her mouth, continuing to slide up as she captured it all in her mouth.

By the time she popped off, his knees were shaking, and his cock was completely clean. Maribelle sat, as pristine and spotless as she had been beforehand, albeit with slightly bulging cheeks as she savoured the gluelike load. As her servant stepped back, she wordlessly shooed him away, leaving him to tuck himself back into his trousers and unceremoniously stumble out of the door. As it shut behind him, Maribelle’s eyes fixed themselves back on Lissa.

The only thing that had prevented Lissa from masturbating furiously to the erotic display before her was her appreciation of the sheer art that had been Maribelle’s blowjob. She could only hope to wield that kind of carnal authority, wield technique fine enough to make a handsome man of no doubt considerable experience putty in her hands… She- Wait, what was Maribelle doing-

Maribelle had taken advantage of Lissa’s dumbstruck state to stand and approach her. Now she had taken the chance to straddle Lissa’s seated lap, their bodies close enough to feel the horny heat emanating from one anothers’ cores. Their eyes met, and Maribelle took Lissa’s face in her hands. With a tender hunger, she lowered her lips to those of her dearest friend, and parted them to let slip her cum-slick tongue.

LIssa moaned into the kiss, remaining starstruck not a moment longer. Their tongues wrestled, duelling to savour the wondrous white gold that Maribelle had brought with her. The taste was, Lissa was unsurprised to find, absolutely delicious. Maribelle’s tongue had rung true. But even as the two greedy bimbos swallowed every drop of the liquid payload they shared, the kiss continued, getting more and more intimate. Lissa’s hands slid up Maribelle’s thighs, over the curve of her hip to squeeze and knead her ample derriere. Maribelle’s hands snaked around Lissa’s neck, holding the two close as they continued their passionate exchange.

When the two surfaced for breath, little needed to be said. Their relationship was forever changed, but neither was worried. There was a kinship between them that went beyond words or sex, though there would certainly be a lot of the latter in their future.

After a long, comfortable moment spent gazing into each others’ eyes, Maribelle spoke up, her voice slightly unsteady for the first time that day.

“...So, Lissa, your thoughts? If Ylissean popular culture changes as I believe it will, I think I might even expect a sizable market for such high-quality seed.”

Lissa smiled lazily, and planted another affectionate peck on her far-more-than-a-friend’s lips.

“Definitely.” She grinned.


End file.
